


Across The Stars

by Adwen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Alternate Universe - Star Wars: The Old Republic Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Kinda, Knowledge of Star Wars not needed (hopefully), M/M, More of a SWTOR au than a SW au, Multi, Other, They still end up together, Viktor is a Sith Lord, Yuuri is a Jedi Knight, does it count if from the get go they're really interested in each other, even tho they're enemies, everyone makes a cameo at some point, just be warned, many more characters are going to be added, star wars canon typical violence, that includes everything from light bruising to incineration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adwen/pseuds/Adwen
Summary: After a string of failed missions, Jedi Knight Yuuri Katsuki returns home to Hasetsu. But between his own restlessness and the Sith Empire drawing ever closer to civil war, his former mentor Minako's sordid and eventful past as a Sith Lord comes back with a bite, having set things in motion that puts them at the center of attention for both sides of the Sith Empire. As a plot with repercussions on the galactic scale unfurls, Yuuri has more troubles than he wished for when he went back home.





	1. Nodus Tollens

**Author's Note:**

> A fic born out of a desire to see more Star Wars aus. Specifically to see a SWTOR au, period. 
> 
> Title comes from [ Across the Stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nk_WHHTQtY) from the Star Wars: Attack of the Clones soundtrack!

This was Yuuri's reality: ducking his head, feeling stray hairs raise in response to the electro-sword’s energy field. Rushing forward, catching his attacker with a fist to the gut, twisting his saberstaff in time to catch blaster fire from another assailant.

There’s a brief moment of annoyance for these men. Mercenaries, the whole lot of them. From the six in the last room, and these four--two now. They didn’t care about their comrades. They were just good muscle, good at fighting, but Yuuri was a Jedi Knight. They couldn’t, shouldn’t, win.

And yet--there were only two minutes left.

Yuuri grabbed his nearest attacker with the Force, lifting and shoving him towards the man with the blaster. He ran towards the narrow windows as their shouts filled the air behind him. The street was hard against his feet, and had it not been for bracing himself with the Force, Yuuri knew his bones would have broken from the drop.

Large sections of Coronet City’s Axial Park district were still suffering the after-effects of the siege during the Great Galactic War, 11 years later. Litter paved the streets as he ran from the warehouse, feeling dust and rocks crunch underfoot from the ruined gardens. Droids paused their work to follow him with dull red eyes, and an escaped animal from Coronet Zoo roared in his peripherals. Yuuri sped up, feeling his breath catch and sputter with the acrid smoke from far-away factories, old bunkers, and the odd fire that started without adequate city control.

 _1 minute and thirty seconds remaining_ , beeped the com wrapped around his ear. It’s communication functions had given out well over ten minutes ago, but it’s internal guidance system and timer were still, damningly, working.

 _I know!_ Yuuri screamed internally as he pushed his stride to go a bit farther, a bit faster. _I know there’s only a minute left. I know it’s too late. I know--_

The Museum of Corellian Industry rose in front of him, tall, majestic, and solitary. Twin pointed pillars framing the door, all in paneling made to mimic stones instead of steel. Three stories plus the roof, Yuuri remembered. He didn’t need to go far, just inside the lobby, perhaps near the fountain where it would have the most impact--

And the world turned hot, red-orange-blue-white, and black.

 

*

 

Yuuri’s body ached with the deep-seated urge to move. He felt weightless, and his tongue was too dry. His legs moved upwards? Forwards? He couldn't tell--and hit a wall, and his eyes snapped open to green and pain.

Yuuri groaned and rubbed his fingers against his stinging eyes. His heart beat in his chest, his mind too fuzzy with lack of sleep, and distantly, distant enough to be only a memory, he felt smoke and pain and fire.

But that was before. This was a Kolto tank [1].

Distantly, he felt Force signatures moving. Nishigori’s calm presence was nearby, Yuuko’s bright energy slightly farther away. Father still, up above, was Celestino, surrounded by a few other signatures Yuuri knew belonged to the other members of the Jedi Council.

So. He was at the temple.

Yuuri didn’t know whether that was better or worse than still being in Corellia and having to be conscious for the return trip to Coruscant [2].

His body floated down until his feet hit the metal paneling. Yuuri forced his shaking legs ( _just how long had he been out?_ ) to stand upright as the rest of the Kolto was drained away.

“I’d mock you for opening your eyes even though you know you shouldn’t but-nah, you know what? I’ll still berate you when you’re awake enough to actually regret it,” Nishigori said.

Yuuri didn’t bother to groan in answer, still keeping his eyes clenched. Nishigori always said the same thing, though this time it held less fond insults than usual. His voice was clear, and Yuuri was suddenly colder, so the tank must be open. Nishigori confirmed it by removing the respirator from his face, forcing Yuuri to take in coughing breaths. Yuuri knew he should get out but-

A hand caught his shoulder, helping to steer him away from the tank and onto the soft-hard surface of the hospital mats.

“You really did a wringer on yourself this time,” Nishigori said. “Any more time in the kolto tanks and I’d think your skin would get permanently dyed green.”

“That can’t happen,” Yuuri rasped. His throat was too dry, the one other nasty side effect of kolto tanks. “You’re a healer. You know this.”

“Jedi physiology is always tricky,” Nishigori said wisely, passing Yuuri a glass of water, which he gulped down in between too-dry breaths. His eyes stung less, so Yuuri forced them to crack open and stare at the reflective floor panels of the temple’s medbay. “Besides, Phichit came to threaten you with a horrible hair dye if you didn’t wake up soon. I suggested fluorescent green with pink highlights.”

Yuuri licked his lips and restrained a huff of amusement. That sounded like something Phichit would do, never mind that Yuuri wouldn’t be able to hear him if he was hurt enough to warrant a stay in the kolto tanks. Yuuri spread his senses once more, searching... “He’s not here, is he?”

Nishigori shook his head. “He was sent on a mission somewhere in Hoth. Should have arrived by now.” Hoth was around a week-long journey by hyperspace from Coruscant using the Defender-class corvettes that Yuuri and Pitchit, along with most other Jedi, used. As far as Yuuri last knew, Phichit had still been in Coruscant's dark underbelly tracking some smugglers with stolen Sith Artifacts and questionable loyalty to the Republic.

Yuuri must have been projecting, either in the Force or in his face. Maybe it was just Nishigori’s experience dealing with irritating patients who refused to stay in bed unless forced to, and who looked at enforced bed rest with more than a little resentment. He handed Yuuri a towel, set a spare set of his robes nearby, and went to the next room. “You’ve been out for three weeks,” Nishigori said over his shoulder. There was worry in his voice, but far, far more relief.

Three weeks.

Yuuri didn’t think as he moved to dress himself. _Three weeks_ , he thought, and shut his mind down.

There was no chance of the mission being successful. No chance that backup had made it, that some other friendly forces in the area had arrived in time to stop that bomb. He had been the only one there. The only cause of failure.

It stung, far more than he wanted to admit.

“Celestino would want to see me, won’t he.” Yuuri’s steps were slowly becoming stronger as he moved across the room. His mind was the opposite, but he couldn't-wouldn’t-let that show. Not now. Not after everything. His mental shields sprung up as solid as they could be.

“Yuuri,” Nishigori started and fell silent once he saw Yuuri’s face. “As soon as you’re ready,” he said, defeated. “I’d say stay here because you literally just woke up but--”

“Council chambers, right?” murmured Yuuri.

Nishigori sighed. “At least wait until their meeting’s over.”

“Of course.”

“And Yuuri?”

Yuuri paused, turning to look and finding himself engulfed in a brief hug. “Be careful, alright? Remember that you can always count on us for anything.” Nishigori patted him and went back to his station, kindly ignoring Yuuri's wide-eyed expression.

Yuuri nodded even though Nishigori couldn’t see it, and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

There was no point in making this longer. Yuuri had been thinking about it for months now, had let all his friends know, and staying a moment longer in the healing wing would do nothing more for him.

  
It was time to end this.

*

  
Yuuri had felt Yuuko’s signature from the tank, and considered sneaking around her. But no, it would be a disservice to all those years she spent sparring with him. The many memories, the embarrassing details she promised to never share, the mutual support when they started pinning after people (but she was always far, far better at getting her catch, as the triplets and Yuuri's shameful secret poster stash proved).

She was in one of the healing wings, one informally known as the 'annoyed teacher area' as she and other instructors frequently used it when one of their students got overzealous and tried moves they shouldn’t have done.

Yuuri figured she’d be here with one of them, as he followed her force signature to the waiting room. Sure enough, she was with a teenager--an initiate probably, going by the lack of braid [3]. He could just about remember seeing that bright red-and-yellow blob of hair in the training halls whenever he was around to use them. He rarely saw the kid up close, but the shock of bright hair always stood out in his peripheral, as the kid was always either gawking at the more experienced Jedi or buried in a datapad taking rapid notes.

Now, the trainee had a medpack around his wrist, and Yuuko was berating him. To the trainee’s credit, he looked to be paying rapt attention, even as his eyes flickered between Yuuko and his datapad with longing. Then, his eyes landed on Yuuri as stood at the door to the room and he screamed, making Yuuri's hand snap to his lightsaber. Yuuko sprang to a defensive position, but broke out into a wide grin when she saw it was just Yuuri. 

“Yuuri!” Yuuko and her trainee cried in union.

Yuuri winced.

The initiate Yuuri raced up to him, shooting a million questions that Yuuri could barely process before the next one was already asked. Then the teen got dragged back by Yuuko, who looked three seconds from bodily marching both of them back to the hospital waiting room and making sure they had zero injuries left.

Mostly Yuuri, he figured. The kid's wrist was nothing serious if all it took was a medpack to heal.

(Yuuri was more familiar with that expression than he liked to admit.)

“Hi Yuu-chan,” he said, trying for a smile and succeeding with surprisingly little effort.

Yuuri’s eyes drifted to the teenager for a few seconds, long enough that the teenager greeted him with “Minami Kenjirou!” and a large inhale that signaled even more talking. Stuck at the end of his eager stare, Yuuri felt brief heartfelt empathy for the reticent Seung-Gil and his well-known wishes to never take on a Padawan, ever, no thank you, goodbye.

“I’m back,” Yuuri said uselessly, fully focusing his attention on Yuuko again.

She smiled, wide and happy. He could feel all the energy she was containing, much like her children but with actual tact. “I’m so glad. We were all worried when you came back from Corelia.”

Yuuri winced. “Well, I’m still in one piece.”

“No replacement for the squid arm just yet,” she joked. Yuuri groaned. He thought he’d sworn Phichit to never tell that story. So what if Yuuri stumbled into hallucinogenics whilst with a broken arm, and the two combined to disastrous effects. It was only  _once!_   _Yuuri_ didn't go about sharing Phichit's side of that story, who had convinced himself that his pet hamsters were not only all the way in Umbara with them, but were the size of small tanks and perfect to ride into battle, when in reality he was looking at gigantic natives fruits resembling pine cones. Mostly because Phichit had spread the story himself in an effort to find tank-sized hamsters, but that was beside the point.

Yuuri dreaded the day Phichit's quest was successful. His army of tiny creatures and droids was big enough as it was. Soon there would be no space in their apartment.

But no, Yuuri realized, his smile shirking. There would be plenty space soon enough.

Distantly, he could still feel Celestino’s force signature. It was a sobering reminder. The nice side effect of Kolto was that it removed all aches and pains that didn’t need actual surgery to cure. Yuuri’s senses were sharper than usual, much to his growing headache and consternation.

“The council is waiting for me,” he said. It was a blatant escape attempt. Yuuri knew it. Yuuko knew it. From his expression, Minami didn’t know it, but that didn’t matter much right now.

Yuuko frowned, searching his face and nudging him with the force until understanding set in. Finally, she smiled, a sad, encouraging thing. “You know we’ll always be here for you if you need anything.”

It was as much approval as he was going to get. Yuuri nodded at both of them, feeling weight both lift and settle onto his shoulders, and left the healing wing.

The Jedi Temple, even half-empty and with the occasional bit of unmoved giant rubble and blatantly-replaced walls, was a majestic sight. Long, circular columns supported the three floora, and more hallways than there were rooms led to wide open spaces that made visitors and residents alike feel tiny and awed. The feeling didn’t change once you entered an elevator, the trip up simply giving proof of how far above the ground the top floors of the Temple were, and how higher still the spirals escaping the roof reached.

It was at the tip of the tallest spiral that the Jedi Council Chamber was located in the Coruscant Temple. The see-through Transparisteel (no more glass, had been the vow after it shattered in the Sacking [4]) that covered over half the wall had an incredible view of Coruscant, the Senate Building and the high-rising apartments of the wealthy well within its view. No one could see the stars below Coruscant’s polluted atmosphere, but the constant flow of speeders and ships could be like a million shooting stars if you came up here at night, which Yuuri had done more than once when he couldn’t work off excess energy by training.

It wasn’t often he came to the council chambers since gaining his Knighthood. Yuuri was primarily a field agent, and the ever-hot Cold War meant that there were constantly new developments to tackle that often made the trip across the galaxy all the way back to Coruscant just a waste of fuel credits. Much easier to give reports and receive missions through the holoterminal on the Corvette he shared with Phichit.

It had been his preference ever since he started doing it. Something about the distance of light years lightened the negative parts of his reports, made every new mission less daunting. Not to mention he wasn't enclosed without respite from any of the council members. Part of Yuuri understood the idea behind a circular chamber. They were equals, it was easier to discuss ideas that way, they all had the same view of Jedi presenting their ideas and reports. And yet-

“Katsuki.”

Yuuri’s head jerked up, wide eyes landing on Seung-Gil. The man gestured behind him with a shrug at the wide open council chamber left waiting and kept walking towards the exit without pause. “They said you could go in.”

“Right. Thank you.” Yuuri stood, took a deep breath, and crossed to the chamber. Inside, his eyes snapped to meet Celestino’s. His old master had a frown between his brows, worry clear to Yuuri after spending so many years as his padawan.

Celestino gave him a once over and seemed to relax at finding him physically healthy, but his expression didn’t quite clear. Yuuri could feel a weak echo of his emotions through the small remainder of their training bond. His old master was a worrier, which was both good and bad in certain situations. Bad in this one, considering what Yuuri planned to do. Celestino had been aware that there was a choice in the first place, had been aware that Yuuri had already made it (had given up on changing Yuuri's mind), but Yuuri hadn’t let him know that he was planning on leaving so soon.

 _Perhaps I should have waited to warn him,_ Yuuri thought. It would probably make everything easier if he had a council member on his side. 

This debriefing, and then the rest of this meeting, wasn’t going to be fun as it was. Yuuri wasn’t very familiar with the other council members, and tried to hide how stiff their presences made him. Their eyes were always analyzing him, picking him apart at their leisure. The circular room meant that there was no escape, not a single spot for him to place his back as to a wall as his instincts insisted on doing.

It was suffocating.

“Knight Katsuki. We’re glad to see you’re in good health once more.” Celestino leaned back into his chair.

“But as here you now are, discuss your mission, we must.”

“You were sent to Corellia to discover the plans of, and if necessary stop, a faction we believed to be allied with the Sith Empire. The first part of your mission was standard, but we lost contact when you entered their base. Our contact on Corellia reported hearing blaster fire over your comm. The next thing we know about your mission is that the Museum of Corellian Industry was destroyed by an ion bomb and you were caught in the fire, after which our contact was able to rescue you and bring you urgent medical attention. Please fill in the gaps between these two events.”

So the SIS agent was the reason Yuuri was fully healed. He’d have to find him someday and give him his thanks. He hadn't been sure, after waking up with little explanation. He probably could have just asked Nishigori, he belatedly realized, but Yuuri hated being stuck in the healing wing as much as any other field agent. [5]

 _Especially_ after such a disastrous mission.

Corellia had started out well by all standards. The mission was hard, but normal. And, most importantly, their Intel (brief as it was), was mostly accurate. Yuuri _should_ have been able to complete it without any issues, going by his previous record ( _not-so-recent record,_ Yuuri amended with a hidden wince).

Yuuri spent a few days being debriefed by the SIS team tracking possible terrorists, rebels, and Empire-friendly factions on Corellia. _The Fist_ was a medium-sized band of disgruntled Corellians, the result of a group seeking to form their own political force to no avail, which Yuuri eventually learned led quarreling sections to try their own methods. This one formed a terrorist cell to make their demands known. They were irritated at the politicians in Corellia. They were irritated at the brewing civil war in Corellia. They were especially angry that no one in Corellia was paying attention to them.

All in all, they were a ticking bomb about to explode. Literally.

But Yuuri only found that out when the plan was already in motion.

To gain attention, they had planned to blow up the old Museum of Corellian Industry. It was abandoned for the most part, as it had been ruined along with most of Axial Park during the Siege of Coronet City. But it was still capable of calling attention to their demands and, most importantly, injure the pride of every politician who promised that Corellia would be strong, independent, and remain at peace no matter what side they chose to ally themselves with.

When the mission started, the intelligence team knew that something was in the works, but the group had been even more tight-lipped than usual. So they asked for a someone who was good at sneaking in, getting the information, and getting out in time to foil their enemy's plans, even going so far as to go past the local Green Jedi force to work with an experienced field agent from the Jedi Order itself. At least, that’s who they hoped to get.

(Yuuri was never close towhat people hoped to get.)

Instead, Yuuri had gone to the main base of operations, tried to sneak in, and was promptly caught by some patrolling guards. He hadn’t been able to stop them from sounding the alarm, and to make matters worse a piece of blaster fire that snuck through his guard hit his earpiece, cutting Yuuri off from the rest of the team and leaving him only with the instructions pre-programmed on his helmet's computer.

All in all, it was a bad situation.

But, Yuuri now knew (had known even then - he had _felt it_ ) it only got worse.

After fighting his way into the compound, he was forced to fight with the hired (and thus better-trained than the rag-tag group that met him outside) muscle, and those took more time than he was proud of. By the time he made it to the main computer and actually discovered their plan, there hadn’t been enough time to stop it.

It was a disaster. Yuuri didn’t want to know what the media looked like in Corellia right now. Didn't want to think about how much he’s just tainted the Jedi’s reputation with the SIS. But the Council was waiting.

Yuuri stared out into Coruscant's skyline as he recounted the mission. The constant flow of ships and speeders filled the smog-dense air in small distraction, a million dusty lights against the distant midday sky. Corellia was cleaner, with actual efforts to maintain their few and fake natural environments. Hasetsu, he knew, was cleaner still.

“Those were most unfortunate events.” Master Odagaki frowned into her hands once he was done. Murmuring, the other council members shared their agreement.

Internally, Yuuri winced. They weren’t just unfortunate. The PR alone-

“At the very least we now know the full story and can tell the Corellian senator to leave us alone.” Master Park’s distaste of politicians was well-known in the Temple, despite the woman saying few words to those other than her fellow Masters and her apprentice. But even ignoring the distaste coloring the words, Yuuri’s heart sank.

“The senator has been...asking for the story?” Yuuri asked.

Celestino nodded. “Don’t worry about it, Yuuri. Only the SIS team you were working with knew you had gotten involved (well, and the Senator, of course, but he's smart enough to not talk). Besides, the negative press for the terrorist group is overwhelming, especially since the events were so clear-cut from the start.” Yuuri barely stopped his reaction from showing. That stung, even though a distant part of his mind Celestino didn’t mean it like that. “Knowing the full mission details is only a formality.”

Yuuri licked his dry lips. Maybe he should have gotten more water from Nishigori, so he would have more bracing than just a deep breath. “Speaking of formalities,” Yuuri said. The councilors fully focused their attention on him again. Not even his shields could hide his nervousness it seemed. But he wouldn’t let that stop him.

“I’d like to request leave from duties as a Jedi Knight.”

It would be good to return home.

*

Predictably, the council took that with shock and exclamations. Or they would have, had they not the control of Jedi Masters. Celestino sighed from his chair, resigned and seemingly unsurprised. He looked a little sad. Yuuri knew he was sad. Yuuri was his former padawan, had trained under him for over a decade before he was finally knighted.

It was always sad to let someone you cared about go, even though you couldn’t hold onto your attachments. It would just hurt more in the end. But it hurt Yuuri right now. It hurt far more than he wanted to admit, far more than he was willing to show. Celestino had been his guardian ever since he left Hasetsu. Leaving him behind was almost as hard as leaving his family had been.

So he didn’t, couldn’t, let it show. Not when the council was looking at him with thinly-veiled shock, when he could see more than a few faces wondering about his motive. It wasn't like Jedi retired, in general, unless they were old and weary. And generally those who _did_ didn't give much advance warning. It was more of a 'leave a brief message, steal away into the night, and hope no one tracks me down' sort of thing. But Yuuri, in yet another failure to go past his attachments, cared too much about his friends to do that.  

“Are you not well, Knight Katsuki? Were your injuries more severe than we believed?” Master Odagaki asked. She was one of the younger masters on the council. Yuuri didn’t know her very well, but her gaze was as kind as it was assessing.

“Indeed. If you still need time off from the field to recover after spending three weeks in a Kolto tank, the council could have gladly waited to have this debriefing.”

Yuuri breathed deeply. “Thank you for your concern, masters, but there is nothing physically wrong with me.” _I hope,_ he silently added. He doubted Nishigori would have let him out of the healing wing without being in top shape. At the very least he would have put more of a fight, and would have even kept his robes hidden as a last (often used, according to Yuuko) resort.

He took a moment to center himself, staring out of the glass plane once more. “But these past few missions have made me realize that I--” am no longer suited to field work. Have hit a roadblock with my missions. Am sick of returning with failed results to pitying glances and bad PR for the Jedi Order. Am even sicker of the continued failure to be a good Jedi and fit in with the Temple. None of those reasons fit completely. It was all of them together, yet none of them. 

“Sometimes doing something too much makes us burn out and need a break,” Celestino helpfully filled in. It wasn’t that either, and Celestino knew it, but Yuuri appreciated the respite from twelve attentive gazes all the same. “Pausing field activity for a while can only do you well, when this happens.”

 _A pause?_ Yuuri wondered. He hadn’t meant it as a pause when talking with Celestino, had thought that his old master understood--

“A vacation, then.” Master Muramoto said. Her tone was inscrutable, as were the faces of the other masters.

“I can’t say this request came at a good time, Knight Katsuki,” Master Park said gravely. “The Sith Empire has become more volatile as of late. Should they be planning another attack, the Republic needs all fighters it can get. The _Order_ needs all the fighters it can get. We aren’t yet fully recovered from the last war.”

“All the more reason for me to leave,” Yuuri said.

“Please explain.”

“If my success rate continues as it is, I don't think having me fighting Sith would be a good idea.”

Admitting it left a sour taste in his mouth. Nevermind that Yuuri hated fighting Sith anyway. Decades of practice had ensured his skills were sharp, and he was familiar with how Sith strategized. Still, they were treacherous, and Yuuri was out of practice when it came to thinking from the Sith perspective regarding battle tactics and attacks, since most of his recent missions were instead relating to dissidents in the Republic. And recently he hadn’t even been holding himself up to par in simple fights. How would he fare in a battle with another Force user if he was having trouble with force-blank mercenaries?

Celestino sighed. “Yuuri, a bad month or two is hardly enough to blunt your skills.” Yuuri prepared to argue when Celestino held up his hand. “But as much as I dislike the idea of losing one of our best fighters at this moment, I believe a respite from your duties can only serve you well. I, personally, approve your request for leave.”

The council chambers were silent. In the Force, Yuuri felt the buzz of the other master’s thoughts, emotions inscrutable as they came to their own decisions.

Yuuri had been counting on Celestino’s aid with this, else he would have to steal away in the night like a bandit like every other failure of a Jedi. Still, it filled him with warmth to know that even if Celestino didn't understand, he was willing to help Yuuri when in need.

Yuuri projected as much appreciation through the remnant of their training bond as he could. Celestino started slightly, and smiled at him. Yuuri knew, at that moment, that even if the other councilors said no, Celestino would still support his plan to the end.

To his right, Master Odagaki cleared her throat. “I, too, approve the request. We can spare a small transport shuttle to one of the resort worlds.”

Yuuri tried not to let his confused frown show. He hadn’t planned to take one of the Jedi-issued transport shuttles, since it would require returning it since it was _technically_ Order property. Maybe the masters expected Yuuri to deviate from normal travel routes. He couldn’t think of any other reason for them to want him to take a shuttle of his own instead of booking a flight on a transport. 

It would make things a lot easier, though. Getting to Hasetsu straight from Coruscant would be near impossible considering the paths normal transports took. He would probably have to find a shuttle to reach a near-by sector first. Even if there _was_ a transport straight to the Kyushu system, he’d probably have to land on the capital planet before being able to find a shuttle to Hasetsu.

 _Small and remote didn’t quite cut it, when talking about Hasetsu these days,_ Yuuri thought, a flash of anger burning through him.

There were, after all, plenty of resort worlds in the Mid-rim. Core worlders rarely had reason to look beyond to the more dangerous parts of the galaxy, nevermind that the cluster Hasetsu belonged to hadn’t seen fighting since the Jedi Civil War three hundred years ago.

Still, there was a lot to be said for being a system bordering the Sith Empire and the fears that automatically covered you as a result.

Yuuri frowned. Yes, getting there would be easier, but it would also be harder to avoid detection from any imperial patrols. The last thing he wanted was to bring unwanted attention to his homeworld by going there on a Republic Transport. On the borders between the two Galactic superpowers, tourists were one thing; Jedi were another.

He’d have to be careful. It wasn’t like he was actively looking for a fight with the Sith Empire. He’d just slide in through the hyperplanes, stay low-key, reach his family and...figure out what to do about the shuttle some other day, along with the exhausting thought of having to convince the council to let him leave not on vacation, but permanently. Yuuri's reserve of 'confronting emotional conversations' energy hard run out for the day. He wasn't ready to prolong this meeting any longer.

“Thank you, Master Odagaki.”

She smiled. “A bit of rest never hurt anyone. After a mission like yours, it will do you much good.”

The other council members seem to come to their decision then, adding their agreement, and in some cases, well-wishes. Yuuri swallowed, thanking them, and exited the Council Chambers as soon as he was given leave.

*

Later, Celestino came to find him packing his belongings in the apartment he shared with Phichit.

“Leaving so soon?” Celestino sat on the edge of the bed, his wry smile not quite as bright as normal, but jovial all the same. “Phichit will be heartbroken.”

“Phichit already knows,” Yuuri said, picking through his clothes. The space in a transport shuttle wasn’t exactly large, especially for shuttles made for less than half a dozen people. But part of the space would be for any food Yuuri could snatch before being forced on field rations, another small part held his poster stash (which Yuuri had debated with himself for half a minute and shoved into the bag before it could turn into an hour long crisis ), and he wouldn’t exactly need armor in Hasetsu. Best to sort out the clothing he could use from the clothing without much use. Jedi should technically not have _too many_ possessions, or so said certain code interpreters, but when your roommate was Phichit Chulanont things like ' _details, Yuuri. The Code is easy to interpret in many different ways. "It's really more like guidelines anyway," according to your drunken wise self_ ' weren't that important.

“You’ve contacted him?”

Yuuri paused, turning to stare at Celestino in confusion. “He’s in Hoth,” he said slowly. “On a mission.”

“I know. I _did_ send him on that mission. I just wanted to know if you’d said goodbye.”

Yuuri refocused on his clothes. Inside his bag, there was a hat with cat ears on it that had been a gift from Yuuko. There was a shirt with ‘Galaxies Greatest Glutes’ imprinted on it in Yuuri’s hand, and he shoved it inside before he could think about the merits of taking it. Yuuri still-unfortunately, and despite the large amounts of alcohol acting against(for?) his favor-remembered the nightmare that was the entire joint mission to Nar Shadaa that gained him that shirt. Yuuri was never, ever, ever entering a watermelon crushing contest whilst not blackout drunk, and he would certainly never do it with Phichit in the vicinity, whether it was important to the mission or not.

Before he left for Corellia, Yuuri had said goodbye as their separate missions sent Yuuri to Corellia and Phichit to the Coruscanti Underworld. He wondered if he had known, back then, that he wouldn’t do it in person when it really counted. Some impulse from the Force that helped settle his resolve.

“I already did,” Yuuri said quietly, still staring at the shirt. “When I left for Corellia.”

“I see,” Celestino sighed. He sounded older, the weight of two padawans, of knowing he was losing one of them, apparent in his voice. “There was nothing I could have said to change your mind, then?”

Yuuri resumed packing, quietly and steady. It was a stark contrast to the whirling madness in his brain. "The council?" he asked instead.

"Would have never relieved you of your duties. You've been out of the loop, but this is truly a terrible time to leave for us. I'll handle them but, Yuuri." Celestino paused. "I'm sorry I didn't notice you were unhappy until it was too late to change things."

"I know." 

Celestino kneeled beside him, clasping him in a brief hug. "I hope you find whatever it is you're searching for."

Yuuri hoped so as well.

*

  
The part of the spaceport reserved for Jedi ships was full of various transports, many fighters, and less platforms in total than any veteran Jedi liked to acknowledge.

Before the Sacking of Coruscant there had been more than enough ships to match active Jedi. Now the area that they used was slowly growing again, but it was a far cry from where it had once been (or, at least, to what they _said_ had been. Yuuri hadn't even left Hasetsu when the Great Galactic War ended). Yuuri knew that the council was considering building their own hangar bay at the temple proper once their numbers leveled out, just so they wouldn't have to haggle over landing pad occupation and prices.

Yuuri’s own ship was identical to the other ships given to Jedi Knights who went on long-range missions. There were some, like Phitchit and Yuuri, who warranted semi-ownership of one of the sturdier and more spacious Defender-class corvettes, but Phitchit was using it at the moment and Yuuri wouldn’t have taken it anyway.

One month and fifteen days, was his official leave time. More than enough to reach a resort planet, enjoy himself, and return to Coruscant from what would essentially be an unpaid vacation.

If there was a moment to change his plans, it was this.

He could even easily do it. Yuuri tried to picture it. A week from here to Hasetsu, now that it was just a matter of sticking to the right hyperlanes. A month and week spent with his family. Another week to return.

Return to field work, and missions. Fighting insurgents, rebels, Sith. Tracking down traitors, clearing his lungs of smog after chasing information brokers in Nar Shadaa’s underground, face-planting into dirt in Balmorra while trying to help the Resistance against the Empire. Running desperately towards an objective he knew he wouldn’t achieve, but fighting to gain it all the same.

He stepped into the ship.

The ramp descending from the entrance and lined with fluorescent lights led to a small room and storage area. Yuuri had piloted ships like this one before, but had grown used to the _Defender_. That was a ship large enough to house a crew of five or six comfortably on a semi-permanent basis, whereas this small transport shuttle was comfortable for about two weeks or so with a maximum crew of three.

It was lonely, to hear his footsteps echo on their own.

A series of beeps called his attention to an astromech in the storage area. It unplugged itself from the charging station and rolled towards Yuuri with a series of rapid binary beeps Yuuri parsed out to be a greeting, even as a recognition scan discreetly washed over him.

He stepped up to the droid, kneeling so he was eye-to-sensor level. “And who are you?” Yuuri murmured. There didn’t seem to be any symbols-of-ownership in the droid’s red markings, but he seemed rather familiar. Perhaps Yuuri had worked with a similar model before, or had seen other Jedi with them. More than one astromech took to following their owner around the temple when there was such an urgent matter that the Jedi in question forgot to leave their astromechs at home or in a storage area.

Admittedly, Yuuri hadn’t interacted much with astromech droids beyond using their skills as navigators and repair droids when he went on missions, so maybe the droid was just familiar from over-exposure to Phichit's collection of mechanical pets.

 _V1C-T0R = Jedi Knight Yuuri Katsuki’s companion droid,_ the droid beeped. _V1C = stay with Yuuri Katsuki + help Yuuri Katsuki_

Yuuri blinked, more than a little bemused. “On whose orders?” he asked, half-sure he knew the answer.

_Jedi Master Celestino Cialdini = asked V1C help Yuuri Katsuki // V1C = many skills // V1C = watch Yuuri Katsuki’s back._

Well, at least it wasn’t Phichit somehow acting from across the galaxy...although. “V1C-T0R, you said?” Yuuri murmured to himself. If he spelled that out... It could be a coincidence, but Yuuri didn’t need to be force sensitive to not believe in coincidences when it came to Phichit Chulnalont.

_That sneaky little-_

The droid--V1C-- _practically_ Victor  _Phichit!_  whirled towards the main area of the ship. _Yuuri Katsuki = going where?_ It beeped, turning its main camera towards Yuuri.

Yuuri followed, taking in the leaving his belongings on a small table and heading to the cockpit. V1C’s wheels were loud on the durasteel plating of the ship as it rolled after Yuuri.

He sat on the main chair, silent as he stared out at Coruscant’s skyline through the view port. Then, Yuuri pulled up the galaxy map, pointing to a small sector right at the edge of the border between the Republic and the Sith Empire.

“There’s a star system there, Kyushu. We’re going to a planet called Hasetsu.”

_V1C = retrieving data // V1C = inputting coordinates into hyperdrive._

“Thanks.” Yuuri said, feeling himself slip into a head space not quite like that of his missions, but not quite relaxed. Exited. Those moments before a spar when both opponents judged the first move and who would make it. Another deep breath and Yuuri ignited the ship's engines, feeling it lurch underneath him as he followed the designated lane out of the magnetic shields and into Coruscanti air space, avoiding other ships as they all left the atmosphere into the dark, light-washed expanse of space.

With a flick of a lever, the ship was infinitely still--and then the viewport was white with a million stars, the walls rattling with the hum of the hyperdrive core.

In hyperspace, with only a shuttle, a droid, and some belongings to his name, Yuuri released a deep breath and let himself relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some terms & World Explanations:
> 
> [1] Kolto is a liquid with healing abilities. It's stored in packs to use in the field (medpacks), and when someone is really injured they're put into a Kolto tank. For those who've seen Empire Strikes Back, you might remember that Luke floats in a blue liquid. That's Bacta, which is basically the same thing as Kolto but more potent (and still experimental in-universe at the time of the fic).
> 
> [2] Corellia and Coruscant are planets in the star wars universe. Coruscant is the capital of the republic, while Corellia is stuck in the power plays between the Empire and Republic. Nar Shadda, Balmorra, Hoth, Tatooine, etc. are also planets. 
> 
> [3] Jedi can be divided into ranks, more or less. Initiate is a kid/teenager that's ready to become a Padawan. Jedi Padawans are like apprentices. They eventually pass a trial to become Jedi Knights, at which point they can eventually take on their own Padawan. If their skills and character are proven enough, they can eventually become Jedi Masters who can sit on the Jedi Council and make important decisions and such. Sith have a similar ranking system with 'Apprentice' instead of Padawan, 'Lord' instead of Knight and 'Dark Lord' or 'Darth' instead of Master.
> 
> [4] Sacking of Coruscant. 11 years before the fic timeline, there was a war called the Great Galactic War between the Republic and Empire. It ended with the Sith attacking Coruscant, which did destroy the Jedi Temple (just not in this fic) but caused both sides to finally agree to end the war. Now the Galaxy is in a Cold War. [ This shows the events (just. No destroyed temple in fic)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdgmH9Vv2-I)
> 
> [5] SIS. The abridged name for the "Republic Strategic Information Service". Basically Republic Intelligence. 
> 
> The fic takes place during the Star Wars: The Old Republic timeline. So around 2,700 years before the movies. In the game, the two main factions are the Galactic Republic (of which the Jedi Order is part of) and the Sith Empire. There also exists a powerful mystical energy field known as the Force, which people known as Force users can interact with. The Force has a light and dark side, which Jedi and Sith respectively use...generally, at least.
> 
> This is kind of an au on the actual swtor canon, since in-game the Jedi Temple on Coruscant gets pretty much destroyed. Here the Sacking of Coruscant was less successful, so the temple was rebuilt. On the Imperial side of things, many Sith are annoyed that the Emperor hasn't appeared to them or done anything to help them, which led to two sides being created: the side that sticks with the emperor no matter what and the side that wants a government overhaul, replacing the emperor with the Dark Council (empire/sith ruling body) or someone else who will actually rule.
> 
> Bonus fact for SWTOR players: Yuuri's skill-set is based off the Jedi Consular (specifically a Jedi Shadow)...generally. Every character is based off one of the classes.


	2. thou cans't not stir a flower (without troubling a star)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri arrives in Hasetsu, but instead of the peace of mind he'd searched for, he only finds trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me terribly. I rewrote it four times before I was satisfied, and can't thank belovedyuuri enough for cheering me on and helping me with it. I'm so glad that people have been liking this so far (bc I'm preeetty sure SWTOR is a niche in this fandom), and hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, I edited the last chapter a bit. Nothing overt changed, but a few jokes and sections got expanded and I fleshed out a bit some motivations. Edit: I also changed 'tablets' to 'datacrons' for anyone who might be re-reading.

Tea spilled over the rim of Yuuri’s cup as the ship shuddered its way out of hyperspace.

 

Thoroughly knocked out of his thoughts and cursing, Yuuri cleaned up the mess on his table. He set the cups back into their containers and hit the button that would wake V1C from its charging station before making his way to the cockpit.

 

Yuuri slowed as he reached the viewport; Hasetsu shone a brilliant blue below, slowly turning along its axis with its three moons revolving around it. It almost looked smaller than when Yuuri had left a decade ago, when everything looked like a section of a galaxy map as he left the planet’s atmosphere for the first time.

 

A part of him had doubted he would ever see the planet again. A knot in his chest dissolved the more he stared, entranced, until V1C’s cheerful greeting broke into his head.

 

Yuuri sent the droid a smile as he slid into the pilot’s seat. During the past week in space, whenever Yuuri wasn’t aggressively drinking though his tea supply or trying and failing to meditate, he’d talked with V1C until a comfortable companionship had formed.

 

Sometimes, Yuuri thought it was almost like the pet he’d never had or known he’d wanted, except that was an insult to V1C.  

 

The more they talked, the more Yuuri found V1C to be an inquisitive, bright soul--even if it was one made of metal and electricity. The comparison was apt enough. V1C made Yuuri wonder if all droids were so...sentient, under the plating and binary coding. It wasn’t like he spent much time with astromechs, or any other type of droid for that matter. They were easy to overlook, even easier to ignore.

 

But V1C was constantly curious about Yuuri, eagerly asking for stories of past missions and funny anecdotes. It never pried into things that made Yuuri uncomfortable, easily backing off without judgement or remarks.

 

For that alone, Yuuri would have valued its company.

 

Instead, Yuuri found a friend, one who delighted in telling stories overheard from other temple droids. Tales ranging from daring forest rescues to thrilling spacebattles from most disjointed perspective Yuuri had _ever_ heard them (what did the exact gravitational effects from a nearby planet on the escorted frigate have to do with what the astromech offensively beeped at one of the enemy droids when engaged in a dogfight?) filled the time, until Yuuri barely noticed when the days blended together into a week.

 

It wasn’t enough to keep Yuuri from his thoughts, nor to soothe the energy thrumming through his bones and demanding release. It didn’t keep his dreams from being restless, mist-filled question marks of dread and uncertainty. But it was more than Yuuri had expected, more than he could have hoped.

 

So when V1C rolled in, coming to rest by Yuuri’s leg, and chirped, _Landing sequence = start?_ Yuuri let out the breath he was holding and smiled. “Yeah. Welcome to Hasetsu, V1C.”

 

*

 

 _Of course_ , he realized after he entered Hasetsu’s atmosphere and was directed to the nearest available landing pad by spaceport operators, _ten years show_ . New lifts, and were those _screens--_ Yuuri blinked in bewilderment at every image of the core world planets. Some kind of travel brochure; the Senate building looking particularly pompous, were those the Alderaan Alps? Corellia-

 

Yuuri turned towards the check-in consoles, cloak sweeping across the floor as he dragged his bags behind him, V1C silently tracing his footsteps. There weren’t that many customs droids as in the core worlds, so that was at least familiar. The layout was still the same, and everything lacked the high-tech, oft used feel of the technology in the core worlds as well. It was rather spotless, in fact, and quite empty.

 

Thus, it was easy to spot the brown-haired woman that was striding towards him. She, too, was familiar. Extremely familiar, Yuuri realized once she was close enough that the veils hanging from her hat didn’t obscure her face.

 

Minako looked exactly like she did in his memories.

 

Yuuri blinked, unbalanced from the overlap of his memories and this scene. Yuuri at twelve, waving his family goodbye, Celestino holding his bags as he left to join the Jedi, Minako a distant figure in concealing getup. Yuuri at twenty three, returning with little to show for it except for newer bags, Minako smiling widely as she drew closer.

 

Yuuri suppressed a flinch as he felt her force presence. It was dark, darker than he remembered. Maybe it was just the constant exposure to Jedi. Still, there was something to be said for Force sensitivity and how _annoying_ it made hiding one's emotions, as Minako’s smile dimmed as she came to a stop before him.

 

“Hey now,” Minako said. “Are you really so surprised you can’t greet your beloved old mentor?”

 

“There’s nothing old about you,” Yuuri said, still thrown. He knew his parents and Mari had certainly aged--they looked older every time he commed them, which never failed to bring forth a pang of guilt. He hadn’t commed Minako through anything that had holo projection capabilities, but he’d always thought she’d surely have _at least_ a few wrinkles after a decade. Maybe even a gray hair or two--she was older than his mother, and lived a far more stressful life!

 

Minako laughed brightly. “Flatterer. You, on the other hand.” She leaned in, squinting at him. “Barely a day over twenty.”

 

“I haven’t been twenty for years.”

 

“Exactly.” Minako said with a proud nod. “Someone needs to carry on with the family business, even if it's only through Hiroko’s excellent genetics.”

 

“Do I even want to know what you mean by that?” He doubted her looks were cosmetic--de-aging surgery was extremely expensive and easy to botch, what with how often it needed to be repeated. Yuuri had spent too long people-watching Coruscant’s elite with Phichit to _not_ be able to tell. It could just be her own genetics, but Yuuri knew Minako was fully human and humans were average on the scale of ‘aging well and slowly’.

 

“Probably, but I’ll keep my secrets for just a while longer.” Her teasing tone was a sharp contrast to the distant, cold smile crawling across her face. “Frankly, I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice.”

 

Yuuri suppressed a shiver.

 

Minako’s nudged him with an elbow, grabbed one of his suitcases, and spared V1C a curious glance before throwing Yuuri a brighter smile. “Come on, I promised myself I’d get you back to your family in one piece.”

 

Yuuri paused. Come to think of it… “How did you even know I was here?”

 

“Well, considering you didn’t let anyone know you were coming…”

 

“I commed!” Yuuri refused to squirm under her accusing stare. (His eyes flickered to the beams, and the droids, and that was definitely Nar Shaddaa they were showing on the screens now; honestly, who wanted to go _there- )_

 

“Over a month ago!”

 

“ _And_ I talked with Mari about coming back.”

 

“Conveniently letting out just _when_ that would be.” Minako huffed. “If it didn’t have us all constantly watching the spaceport for any news of your arrival, I’d be impressed with how good you are at sneaking across the galaxy without anyone realizing!”

 

“I was busy!” being stuck in a healing trance “and then I was in hyperspace” because Yuuri forgot (decided not to, same difference) to comm before leaving “and that _still_ doesn’t answer how you knew I was here,” Yuuri pointed out.

 

“I have connections,” Minako said airily. “Now come on, to the speeder we go!” Twirling towards her speeder and taking his bags with her, she left Yuuri with no choice but to follow.

 

Yuuri started after her, discomfited, the odd sense of de-ja vu still strong enough to throw him into a black hole. He barely noticed V1C rolling to a stop at his side until it spoke up. _This person = Friend of Yuuri Katsuki’s?_

 

Yuuri briefly despaired the inquisitive minds of astromechs. “Yes,” he said slowly. “She’s…”

 

When Yuuri was six, he started dreaming about people he had never seen, places he had never been to, battles being fought in the bloody, bitter years of war. His parents had only needed to take one look at him, cradled in Mari’s strong hug as the events in his dreams were shown on the holonet news hours after Yuuri had woken the Inn with a scream, to know what was happening.

 

Within the week, his mother convinced her reclusive friend to return to society. The day after that, Yuuri gained a mentor in controlling his Force sensitivity. Little could be done for the dreams the Force sent him, but their effects could be lessened, somewhat. Finally, Yuuri had an explanation for his odd awareness of the people and things around him.

 

Minako had taught him more than how to levitate objects, or how to shield his mind. She taught him about the secrets of the galaxy, shown him strength came from both allies and within, encouraged him to get up and up and up after he fell, had done so much to help Yuuri become the person he now was.

 

But if all went to plan, no one would ever know how much she did.

 

“...a family friend.”

 

*

 

Minako had borrowed his family’s speeder. Yuuri eyed it with curiosity as he shoved his other bag into the cargo hold. It had been newly bought when he left for Coruscant, but now, eleven years later, it bore evidence of history that Yuuri wasn’t privy to.

 

Mari had talked about replacing it with a bigger model, Yuuri remembered. That had been several years ago. He wondered why she never did.

 

The three of them fit comfortably in the wide seats of the speeder, despite V1C’s bulky size taking up two sections of the footrest. Yuuri eyed the passing buildings with interest. Many seemed to be up for rent or sale. Suspicion began to grow in his mind. “Why _are_ you here? Isn’t your dance class during this time?”

 

Minako sighed. “I guess it's too late to keep a secret now.” Her mouth thinned, an unhappy twist to it that left Yuuri’s stomach plummeting into his feet. “Hasetsu’s economy has taken a hit, these past few years. I never had that many students to start with, but now I barely have any left. A lot of people are leaving, too.”

 

Hasetsu was a beautiful planet. It’s largest island housed everything from snowy peaks with warm hot springs to soft, rolling plains. The rest were filled with small forests and pleasant rivers, all surrounded by the green-blue waters of the sea. Sprawling underwater gardens were home to the native aquatic species that Yuuri’s ancestor's brokered several treaties with, creating a life of harmony for hundreds of years.

 

Since then, tourism had always been the major attraction of the planet. It was an idyllic vacation spot, and the locals made sure that visitors always had where to stay, food to eat, places to visit, things to do--

 

And tourists had appreciated that. Hasetsu wasn’t an economic giant, but like most mid-rim worlds it had enjoyed a comfortable wealth. The planet Yuuri knew, the planet Yuuri remembered, had been heading the path towards being _prosperous_.

 

“Why?” Yuuri demanded. “What happened?”

 

 _Why didn’t you tell me?_ But not, that made perfect sense. They were family, after all. Yuuri hadn’t told them why he’d quit the Order. He hadn’t even mentioned the fact. They just expected him back for a few weeks. Now, he would be a strain on their resources until he found a job. And if he knew his economic depressions, no one would be hiring.

 

No. He would find something to do. Something, anything to help.  

 

“What do you think? I’m sure you have more information than I do. The war. Everyone knows the Empire is on the brink of Civil War. _Idiots_. Who even let it reach that point?”

 

“You’d know better than I would.”

 

“Rhetorical question. You know I haven’t been in the Empire for years. Besides, if I was still on the Dark Council I would--well, I wouldn’t have let it reach civil war! We’ve barely recovered from the Great Galactic War!”

 

Behind him, V1C beeped in shock. Ah, right. V1C didn’t know Minako had been a Sith. Yuuri counted on the trust they had built, hoping it wasn’t misplaced. (It would be terrible if knowledge of Darth Avant’s whereabouts got out, Yuuri knew. These past few months had been disastrous enough. Yuuri prayed that the Force would be kind in this respect.)

 

Because ‘we’ didn’t mean the Republic. She still thought of herself as a Sith. Yuuri tried to keep the trepidation this inspired far from his face or his force signature. His Jedi instincts were still at full throttle.

 

“Why did you leave?” Yuuri asked. He’d never asked before. His mother told him not to, said it brought up bad memories. The details of Minako’s time with the Sith had been kept to everything before that time, and Yuuri had been content with it. Now, well, situations were different.

 

Minako frowned. “I didn’t leave,” she said quietly. “I was forced out.” The pain the thought brought her was almost tangible, both in the Force and in her voice.

 

Oh.

 

“Sorry,” Yuuri said, chargined.

 

Minako waved him off, the remaining hand expertly steering the speeder. “You couldn’t have known.”

 

Yuuri winced. “Right,” he said, ignoring the odd look this brought him.

 

They rode in tense silence, until Yuuri couldn’t take the agitation burning in his veins any longer. “I quit the Order.”

 

Minako nearly drove them into a tree, swerving off at the last moment with a shriek. Yuuri quickly grabbed onto the sides of the speeder, and in the back seat V1C did the binary equivalent of a scream as the swerling nearly threw the droid onto the road.

 

Finally, when they weren’t in danger of an impromptu death, Minako, grip still clutching the steering wheel, screeched, “What?!”

 

Even V1C winced at the volume. Minako shook her head, continuing with a hushed voice. “Did you say ‘I quit the Order’?!”

 

Yuuri had a white-knuckled grip on the speeder. “If I say yes, are we going to crash?!”

 

“ _No._ ” Minako scowled, eyes fixed on the road. “Yuuri, why in the world would you quit the Order?”

 

For a second, Yuuri nearly spilled everything. All his darkest thoughts and fears, the accusations that sprung from deep inside him and bled together with the harmful words of the world outside. Then he glanced at V1C. “You know why."

 

“I know why," Minako parroted. It took her a second. "Oh, Yuuri." Yuuri chanced a look, but Minako was staring out into the road, a section of her lips caught between her teeth. She looked older than her years in that moment--or perhaps it was that she finally looked her age.

 

Behind him, Yuuri felt an odd touch. V1C beeped comfortingly, retracting its arm, and Yuuri’s heart warmed. That droid was too precious.

 

“Sometimes I wish I had never left the Sith. I could have taken you on as my apprentice. I could have called you Darth Cuisse!” Her tone lifted at the end, some sort of joke Yuuri wasn’t privy to. “I never wanted you to feel this way, when I pushed you to join the Jedi.”

 

“I know,” Yuuri said. “You wanted a better life and more training than you could give. I just…”

 

“...I didn’t always want to be a Sith, you know. I wanted to be an aerial dancer. You know those with the big, gravity-defying domes?”

 

“That’s why you’ve kept dancing?”

 

Minako nodded. “When I was around sixteen or so, my family realised I was force sensitive. My homeworld is Imperial, was Imperial, even before the War. I was sent to the Academy and the rest is history. Eventually I realised I liked being a Sith, so while I don’t know your exact feelings, I do remember what it’s like to be stuck doing something you aren’t sure about. You know we’ll support you no matter what you choose, Yuuri. We always have.”

 

Even when Yuuri doesn’t deserve it, even when it would hurt them financially. Yuuri sent Minako a graceful smile he didn’t completely feel.

 

Minako grinned back and hummed. “You know, speaking of training, I ought to see where the Jedi left you. Come by my studio sometime. It’s been _years_ since I had a good workout. For now though,” she said, Yutopia finally coming into view. “There’s a party we need to get to!”

 

Yuuri choked on thin air. “A _what_?!”

 

-

 

“‘Party,’” Yuuri grumbled, half-glaring at his former mentor. Annoyance threatened to coat his tone, but he can hardly make himself care that much when there was a bowl of his mother’s katsudon in front of him and his family was smiling and safe and physically _there_ instead of it just being their holograms.

 

 _Food cures everything,_ he thought through a mouthful of broth. _Whoever thought the answer to that was ‘time’ never ate katsudon._

 

(He tried to not focus on how few patrons there were. Everything had its own moment.)

 

Minako’s grin held too many teeth. “Call it revenge for not giving any warning.”

 

“I _commed_ ,” he grumbled again.

 

Mari snorted. They were all seated around one of the low-lying kotatsu in the restaurant part of the inn, now that Yuuri had ‘finished arriving and could definitely eat a bowl or three.’ “Nearly two months ago, only to say that you were probably coming back sometime ‘in the near future.’”

 

Yuuri shifted, red crawling across his face and eyes not leaving his Katsudon. In truth, the call home before his mission to Corellia had been---not at all planned.

 

Part of it was that he usually made calls on a schedule--Yuuri never wanted to repeat that time when Phichit had been the one to answer his family’s call. He _knew_ most of Mari’s blackmail came from that--so when his free time coincided with some few hours that his family could spare in the Inn…

 

And then his mother, eyes hopeful, had gently reminded him that he could return anytime. He hadn’t eaten any of her katsudon in so long, and did he look thinner than the last time she saw him?

 

He may have blurted an abridged version of his half-formed retirement plans sans the actual "retirement" part. Then spent an entire week regretting it. Then another week not thinking about it. Three weeks unconscious and then--

 

V1C beeped curiously from its end of the table. Yuuri’s family had, thankfully, taken to the droid with as much cheer as any family would when suddenly gaining a rather useless helper. No one knew what V1C could do, though, except check in on the machinery in the more obviously mechanical parts of the inn.

 

Still, despite that and his family’s lack of Binary knowledge, no one had objected to the droid staying with them.

 

(Yuuri was pathetically grateful in the same way he was glad no one objected to him showing up out of the blue--meaning he tried to telepathically convey his gratitude without actually having to deal with saying things like _I’ve spent the last ten years away and I know we aren’t as close as before I tried to comm when I could I know I failed and I’m so, so grateful for you and the fact you still support me even when I’ve failed to make the most of going to the Capital planet and becoming a Jedi_ _and brought nothing but shame in return_

 

Yes, best to ignore those things. Katsudon was a far better topic.)

 

Mari turned to look at it, apparently having decided to put Yuuri out of his misery. “So, Vee-one-cee, huh? I’ve never heard of that model.”

 

Yuuri swallowed, narrowing his eyes at his sister’s overly casual tone before shrugging. “V1C-T0R, he’s a...customized model,” he said, savoring a piece of pork. Truly, no other katsudon could compare to this. It was heavenly. Mari hummed the name under her breath. Then she grabbed a data pad.

 

“So, _Victor_ , huh? This wouldn’t have anything to do with those posters of the hot guy I saw when you were unpacking, right?”

 

Yuuri choked on the pork.

 

Across the table, Minako roared with laughter. “Wait,” she gasped. “Yuuri, don’t tell me you got a boyfriend and named your droid after him.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!”  Yuuri wanted to _die_. He should have stayed in Coruscant. He should just throw himself into the ocean to evade the teasing. ”He’s just a swoop racer!”

 

“A hot swoop racer?” Minako teased. “Is _hard_ and _fast_ what does it for you?” Yuuri groaned pitifully into his bowl.  

 

“Very hot,” Mari said, the traitorous evil sister she was. “Who’d have thought my little brother had such good taste.”

 

“I don’t have a taste for him,” Yuuri hissed. “He’s just. A good racer.”

 

“Who’s hot.”

 

“That’s not important!”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Minako wiped a tear from her dry eyes. “They grow up so fast.”

 

“I hate all of you,” Yuuri told his katsudon. “I’m moving to Nar Shaddaa.” Yuuri stubbornly ignored the part of his brain which sounded very much like Phichit that said, _Yuuri, you despise Nar Shaddaa_.

 

Yuuri’s ears picked up Mari’s snort perfectly. “Love you too, little bro. Don’t forget to introduce us before the wedding.”

 

Minako broke into laughter again.  

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Yuuri braced himself, twisting his staff to parry the coming blow. This was not his weapon, but Yuuri knew how to use it. It set him on even field with Minako, who had also forgone her usual weapon for a practice sword.

 

A drip of sweat fell near his eye, and Yuuri’s eyes narrowed. He and Minako clashed again, but this time Yuuri ducked low, trying to sweep her feet out from under her. She jumped, as expected, and Yuuri twirled, his staff catching her sword and sending it careening into the wall. The other went straight into her stomach, making her landing heavier than it would have otherwise been.

 

Yuuri panted. “Best five out of six?”

 

Minako braced her hands on her knees. “Let my old bones rest. Victory goes to you, my old apprentice.”

 

Yuuri grinned, rolling on the balls of his feet. He hadn’t been able to exercise for the past week and a half, ever since he left Coruscant. The shuttle was too small, and he spent these past few days trying to get back to Hasetsu’s rhythm, explaining everything to his family, and trying to figure out a game plan.

 

He’d failed on the latter and it multiplied that pent-up energy. Minako might have been out of practice, made worse by not being able to use the Force, but she was still a cunning opponent. Yuuri won, but it was a reminder that his old master had once been amongst the upper echelon of the Empire that he had to work for it.

 

Yuuri still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was hard, he’d found, to reconcile his memories with his prejudices. It was just as hard to ignore her Sith ways now as it was to not show them himself, years ago.

 

He tried not to show it too much around Minako, but he knew he wasn’t completely successful.

 

 _At least,_ he thought, _I know she isn’t a vicious murdering maniac like most Sith._

 

The thought amused him after they cleaned up and went to her bar for a cooldown. Yuuri sipped his water bottle, watching with bemusement as she poured a drink not fit to be consumed in the afternoon.

 

Then his eyebrows shot up as she threw the drink back in one smooth movement.

 

“So,” she said, already filling the second cup. “Have you felt anything strange lately?”

 

Yuuri blinked at her, setting his bottle on the table with a frown. “Define ‘strange’.”

 

“Visions, dreams, sudden feelings of doom. The usual.”

 

“Your usual is different than mine,” Yuuri said. He paused to think about it. “I’ve been having...I suppose they’re nightmares, but I can never remember what they are. I assumed they were just bad memories.”

 

Instead of reassuring Minako, she poured herself another glass. “I hoped you wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Why?”

 

Minako hesitated only for a moment. “I’ve been having visions. They’re...about the destruction of the galaxy as we know it. A dark shadow, crawling across the galaxy and sucking the life out of every planet it passes. And I... have reason to think it’s a warning about the Sith Emperor. He’s back.”

 

Yuuri freezed, staring at her. But no, nothing in her expression said that this could be a joke, and even for Sith it would be in bad taste. “How? Why?”

 

Minako shifted, and Yuuri would say she almost looked guilty. “A ritual. Or a super weapon, or both. I’m not--I barely managed to get to the end and figure out which was which, and I’ve forgotten the details now.”

 

“The end?”

 

Now she definitely looked guilty. “Remember when I said I got thrown out of the Empire? The reason is that I messed with the Emperor’s toys,” she said. “It’s why I look as young as I do. I... used a version of the ritual that gave the Emperor his elongated life.”

 

Yuuri exhaled harshly. “You what?”

 

“We were--it was halfway through the war. We were in a stalemate with the Republic, and the Emperor seemed to have up and abandoned us. We were scouring ideas--weapons of mass destruction, invasions, anything that would tip the war in our favor. That’s when Sith Intelligence found records of Nathema.”

 

“The ritual?”

 

“The planet,” Minako corrected. “It used to be an ancient Sith homeworld, but he sucked the very life out of it, and it boosted his life and powers to a point I still have trouble grasping. The Sith Emperor did his best to blast it out of history, but he’s been using it as a storage facility for hundreds of years. Despite his best efforts, we’ve been finding out about it--and the ritual--every couple of centuries. I'm just the first time anyone survived to tell the tale.”

 

Bile rose to his throat, but Yuuri shoved it down as best as he could, his grip tightening around the edge of the table. It was horrifying. On par with the destruction of Malachor, or even the tales of Korriban he had heard. Perfectly in line with the Emperor to murder a planet, and Yuuri’s heart bled for all the souls-- _the entire planet_ \--lost. But he had more pressing concerns now, and he pushed all that away.  “This...superwepon is on Nathema?”

 

Minako grimaced. “I don’t know. After finding out about it, we decided to snoop around, see if there was something we could use. The Emperor was _occupied_ , so he didn’t notice. There were four of us in total--all of us Council members. We didn’t get along.” Her mouth twisted, an old unhappiness clouding her features. “At least, not often enough to be called allies, let alone friends. And when I found that ritual, I thought--this was my chance to get rid of some of my rivals!”

 

Her voice fell flat. “Turns out it's pretty hard to fight back once your lifeforce is getting sucked out of you. I killed them all, but by then we were close to discovery--I took their bodies back, and stole a few of the datacrons detailing the ritual.”

 

“Minako!” Yuuri gasped, shocked.

 

“I know, I know. I was young and stupid! But when I got back and after I attended all of the funerals and whatnot, I set about fully decrypting the files. _That’s_ when I realized that I’d stumbled upon the very same ritual that the Emperor used to kill Nathema, and that in the interim, he had set about creating an even more massive version with something called a ‘Zildrog’. But by the time I’d decrypted the fourth 'cron, the Emperor shifted his attention back to us--it was nearing the end of the war, then. He realized someone had been on Nathema, and his Wrath tracked me down.”

 

Minako bared her teeth, laughing bitterly. “I killed the Wrath and faked my death, but I had to burn down everything in the process. All of my research, _decades_ of it--gone.”

 

“Were the datacrons destroyed then?” Yuuri asked, not daring to hope.

 

True to his suspicions Minako couldn’t meet his gaze. “I was very stupid,” she repeated. “I thought--it was my only chance to get revenge. I could turn his own weapon against him and _make him pay_. So I kept the 'crons with me when I escaped.”

 

Yuuri’s blood froze. “They’re _here_?”

 

“What?! No! I’m not _that_ stupid! I realized I couldn’t just wander back into Nathema, ally-less and hunted as I was. I had to wait. So, as I jumped planets to erase my trail, I left the datacrons scattered across the galaxy.” She winced under his accusing stare. “I know. But, Yuuri, can you blame me? What would you have done if your home and passion were suddenly ripped away?”

 

 _I wouldn’t have messed with the ritual in the first place_ , Yuuri nearly said. His teeth made his tongue bleed in a bid to not say it--to say anything else--and Minako turned away, swishing the bottle in a deceptively loose grip.

 

“It was stupid of me,” she said yet again. Yuuri didn't voice his agreement, the taste of blood still in his mouth. “I should have destroyed those things the moment I figured out what they did, I realize now. Too little too late.”

 

“Why haven’t you?” _Please_ , Yuuri desperately thought, _don’t tell me you still want to use it._

 

Minako smiled. It was not very pleasant, and the sentimental part of Yuuri hurt to see it on his mentor’s face.  “My allies are either traitors, threatened, bribed, or dead. Maybe if I’d managed to contact them before I was labeled a dead traitor. But after this long with no word? I’d be on my own. And even though I look young, I can feel the weight of time pressing down on me. Too many rituals, too fast. It took its toll. Even if I did somehow manage to jump across the galaxy and get them, there’s no saying that someone wouldn’t notice, manage to kill me, and do what I almost did. And besides, nothing had given me cause to think anyone knew I was alive, much less where I--or the datacrons--were. There was no need to risk it before.”

 

 _The vision. My restless dreams. Why now? Why_ just _as I come ho--oh._

 

“I had hoped it was just a one off thing, some punishment for my past. But if you’re also feeling the warning...we have a problem,” Minako said. _Understatement_.

 

Yuuri nodded, a headache starting to pound against his eyes. “Right.” His throat was too dry, his stomach too tight--

 

“I-I’m going to be sick,” Yuuri said, and bolted towards the restroom.

 

-

 

Yuuri’s fingers clenched tight on the counter. His dry heaving had stopped, but it had left his reflection a splotchy, red-eyed mess of dishevelled hair.

 

Minako used the ritual to boost her power and prolong her youth. Three people, and twenty years later she had barely aged.

 

The Sith Emperor had done it to an entire planet. Not just the people, not just the animals, but the plants and the rocks and the _life force_ of the planet itself.

 

_They let that person rule them for a thousand years._

 

Had they known? Did they care? Even if they did, what would they have done? Yuuri shuddered. There were stories of the Sith Emperor, and none were good.

 

They were more legends than stories, though. It had been so long since anyone from the Republic had a confirmed sighting of the Emperor. And, wasn’t the entire problem with the would-be war inside the Empire because a faction thought him dead and wanted the throne for themselves?

 

Could he be dead? Surely his power must run out someday. But then, why would Minako get those visions now of all times, when conveniently a Jedi (former Jedi, his brain unhelpfully whispered) had come to Hasetsu, had settled down at the border of the Empire and done nothing to hide his plans.

 

Yuuri’s grip tightened, knuckles turning whiter. He took a stealing breath and left the bathroom, finding Minako still sitting at the bar, a new bottle open in her hands, already a of it third gone.

 

“Did they come because of me?” Yuuri didn’t want to know, if he was honest. Experience taught him if he didn’t know, it would be worse.

 

Minako was silent. “I never saw you in my visions,” she said.

 

That doesn’t answer him at all!

 

“But there’s nothing here! You didn’t get these visions until _I_ came--”

 

“ _I’m_ here,” Minako snapped. “Maybe you brought their attention here. Maybe they just finally found me. Either way, we need to plan.”

 

Yuuri bit his lip.  

 

“That shadow--those planets. It must be a warning that the Emperor is going to do the ritual again, right?”

 

“...That’s what I thought,” Yuuri said.

 

“You’ll help, then?”

 

Yuuri’s mouth set into a hard line as he nodded. “We need to destroy the datacrons before he gets them.”

 

Minako grimaced. “I know.”

 

There are many things Yuuri could have said. _What happened to ‘I can’t destroy those datacrons’?_ Came to mind.His face scrunched up, jaw subtly tightening, and he let out a deep breath. “I’m guessing you have ideas.”

 

“Ah,” Minako shrugged, moving her hand in a so-so motion. “Ideas. Nothing detailed.”

 

“We need to get the 'crons,” Yuuri said. “We need to _destroy_ them.”

 

“We need to do it without anyone realizing what we’re doing,” Minako asserted. “If the Emperor realizes what we’re doing, he can track us down and get them himself.”

 

Yuuri grimaced. Covert ops. Supposedly his strength. Yuuri felt woefully unprepared. “A decoy,” he suggested. “Or a distraction. Something to make sure his attention isn’t on us.”

 

They paused, each thinking over the possibilities. Yuuri jumped when Minako slammed the bottle down on the counter, an eureka moment lighting up her face. “ _Me_.”

 

Yuuri blanched at the idea of using his mentor like that. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

Minako waved a hand in dismissal. “It fits. You, you’re just a Jedi.” _Geez, thanks._ “No one is going to look too closely at you investigating Sith Temples in those planets, though Dromund Kaas is definitely a problem.”

 

If Yuuri had been holding his cup it would have shattered on the floor. “Dromund Kaas,” Yuuri interrupted, aghast. “ _Dromund Kaas?!_ ” 

 

Minako ignored him. “But me--I made so many enemies they probably pissed on whatever grave they built me. If I suddenly reappear, then--”

 

“They’ll hunt you down,” Yuuri said. “Minako-”

 

“It’s better than my ideas. I thought about winning a fortune, hiring a bunch of smugglers and getting the datacrons back, and that is--such a bad idea. Those double-crossing, two-timing good for nothing nerf-herders stole so much shit from me-” Yuuri shivered at seeing that glint in her eye as she looked at him--admiring, assessing, so much like those of the Council when they declared him _perfect_ for a mission that inevitably went awry. “-but there’s nothing odd about a Jedi snooping into Sith graves.”

 

“Even on the _capital of the Sith Empire?_! You must be drunker than you look.”

 

Minako snorted, but put away the bottles in a pointed movement that failed to hide the excitement that had entered her. “I can drink twice this before I start feeling it,” she said. “And Dromund Kaas is--a problem, but one we can ignore for now. Leave it for last and then buy off a Mandalorian to sneak you in. Did you know they have their own quarters next to the Citadel? _Idiots_. Who trusts bounty hunters?”

 

Yuuri didn’t know that. It would have been nice to know, back when he was working for the Jedi, if only so that it could be added to their records. “Mandalorians are loyal to the Empire, and cherish their honor too much to betray it.”

 

“There is always, _always_ , someone who gets swayed by money or power, or even the chance of freedom.” Minako looked him in the eye solemnly. “Always. Dromund Kaas is going to be the hardest hurdle to cross, but it’s not that big of one, unless we count the proximity to the Emperor.”

 

Yuuri shivered, a sharp frown tugging at his face at the thought of that monster. “Right.”

 

Yuuri was good at ignoring problems until they became critical. It made him a good fieldwork agent and it would aid him now, having his worldview and plans thrown straight into a grinder and stamped on after they came out.

 

But what could they do but face it head on? Yuuri had to admit that it wasn’t often the Force sent him visions every day for a week--it signified urgent problems when it did. In the the uncertain time limit they had before the Emperor acted, they would need to strike first.

 

Yuuri still had the shuttle in the spaceport. He could use it to jump to the needed planets in moderate stealth, bring V1C as a backup after somehow fitting the droid with weapons, and destroy the datacrons as he goes.

 

And Minako--

 

Yuuri’s muscles still ached from the spar. Minako could handle herself, but that didn’t mean Yuuri liked the imminent destruction of the only safety net the closest thing he has to an aunt had.

 

And that was another thing. What of his family? Yuuri hasn’t seen them in years, and now that he’s back he’s going to leave again just to directly challenge the most dangerous being in the galaxy.

 

At least it’s better than staying here as a moocher. Yuuri has been helping out around the Inn, but there were so few customers it wasn’t needed. The reminder never failed to infuriate him and fill him with guilt in turns.

 

Yuuri would find those datacrons, deal with them, and stick it to the Emperor in the best way he could. And then, if everything was not lost--

 

Then he would return to Hasetsu and try and find a cure for the disaster that had become the economy. It was the least he could do.

 

Though it would be nice if he had any idea how to do it.

 

(How to do anything, really.)

 

*

 

The rest of the day is filled with detailed explanations of where and how Minako hid the datacrons [1].

 

When first escaping from the Emperor’s Wrath, Yuuri learned, she had been in a hidden lab near something called a Dark Temple. The cave surrounding her lab had been off the beaten path just enough to not draw attention, and the Dark Temple was a regular pilgrimage site so it covered her frequent trips down there.

 

It was that cave that she had destroyed in a burning infierno, trapping the Wrath inside while she fled to the Dromund Kaas jungles and hid in a temple. After stashing one of the datacrons in a hidden crevice she’d found in an old tomb, she’d ran with the remaining three who didn’t fit in her impromptu force-guided hiding spot.

 

Then she jumped to Taris. Bolstered by her plots of revenge, she spent two weeks fighting off the infestation of Rakghouls and other native predators before camping out in the tomb of one of her companions in Nathema. It was there that, inspired by her actions on Dromund Kaas, she hid another of the datacrons.

 

Yuuri, with more self control than he knew he had, didn't mention how incredibly creepy that was. There was only so much of the overt Sith-ness of his adored mentor he could take without starting another argument.

 

“No one would expect me to go anywhere near their graves,” Minako said, as if though that explained everything. It did, in a way, but it was no less disturbing to the Jedi part of Yuuri that he’d spent the last decade cultivating.

 

From there she took a long range transport all the way to Tatooine, almost on the opposite end of the galaxy. Yet another of her murdered companion’s tombs used as storage, then one last jump to frigid Hoth and repeat.

 

Finally, she returned to this side of the galaxy. _Home_ , Yuuri supposed, _would always call_.

 

Yuuri would need to find some gear for Hoth and Tatooine. He’s been to both, and while he had specialized gear for the two opposing climates, all of it had been donated to the Temple when he left.

 

Hasetsu was too tropical for it, but maybe basic tents would do on Taris and Tatooine. Hoth would need insulated tents if he wanted to make his way across the frigid lands and to the hidden temple Minako had pointed out on a map.

 

On Tatooine, at least, there would be plenty of smugglers and other low-lifes to hide his tracks and get him desert gear.

 

Taris--Taris was similar to Hasetsu in climate, but the rakghoul infestation posed a problem.

 

According to Minako, Yuuri could (would have to) stop at the Orbital station to get an immunization shot before he could go down. But it was the proximity to the Sith Empire that filled him with dread. Taris would be last, he decided, if only for his peace of mind.

 

Meanwhile, a quick check to the inter-sector travel itinerary showed that the next shuttle to the capital planet would leave in two weeks. That’s when Minako would leave, make her way to Nar Shadaa and get into enough trouble to be spotted by the information brokers, who would sell the info of a rogue Sith to both the Republic and Empire, and then…

 

Then she’d run.

 

Yuuri wasn’t happy with it, and he could almost feel the meticulous planning parts of Minako irk at blowing her cover, held silent by the sheer force of her will.

 

At least the two weeks would give Yuuri time to untangle the ball of confusion he felt over his mentor. Naively, he’d hoped that he would fit in with a Sith the ways he couldn’t with the Jedi. Now he knew the truth. He was too much of a Sith to be a proper Jedi and, returned to his roots, he was too much of a Jedi to be a Sith. It was ironic in the most bitter sense of the word.

 

The two weeks would also be good to gather supplies before Yuuri set off a week later, and be enough time to settle things (and spend time with) with his family.

 

Two weeks. Three total weeks before he set out on what could be the most dangerous and important mission of his life.

 

If his stealth and training failed…

 

(But it _couldn’t_. Yuuri wouldn’t let it.)

 

They’d have to be enough.

 

*

 

The next day they started gathered supplies. He handled the more visible things, such as camping equipment, that could be passed off as wanting to reacquaint himself with his home planet. It meant having to make weak excuses his family didn’t believe, but they didn’t push. Yuuri was grateful for all those times mission details couldn’t be shared, and how good of an excuse that made now. The edited, specific-less versions of Minako’s story and their plan had made them worry enough. Yuuri didn’t need to burden them with anything else.

 

(Yuuri knew his family. They let him go with Celestino after extracting promises of safety and monthly check-ins. They contented themselves in that decade knowing that Yuuri had a head start with Minako’s training, with the knowledge that Yuuri had never completely fit into the puzzle of Hasetsu, that the Jedi in their gleaming temple in the capital planet of the Republic had resources tiny Hasetsu didn’t.

 

But if they thought he’d need it, they would have gone with him. And today, it was worse: they’d go after him. If they thought he was alone and helpless, Mari at least would commandeer a shuttle and a blaster and prove why she’d led the most fearsome gang in her school. Yuuri was touched, but he refused to put his family in danger like that. There were some enemies no one should have to face.)

 

Minako pooled their credits into food caches, tickets, and bribing a spaceport worker into secretly doing maintenance on Yuuri’s shuttle and smuggling some of those supplies onto it.

 

“ _That_ is how you knew I’d arrived,” Yuuri accused. “You bribed a worker!”

 

Minako didn’t even attempt to hide her amusement. “Bribery is too strong a word, Yuuri. I gave his kids free self defence lessons when he lost his first job. His...eternal gratitude and help with _gathering convenient information_ is the least he could have done to repay that.”

 

“Sith,” Yuuri muttered. Just when they almost do something decent. Was it worrisome that the thought now amused him more than it disgusted him? How much of a Sith was he after a decade as a Jedi? Was he now the equivalent of those who fell to the dark side? Had he always been part of the dark side? 

 

But he’d never be able to support Minako’s choices regarding the ritual, nor even think about it without feeling disgust rise.

 

Yuuri had killed people as well. It was an unfortunate side effect of his line of work. But there were limits you didn’t cross, and ripping the _life force_ out of people was one of them.

 

There was no point in arguing over what happened now, and Yuuri shoved his feelings about that away. It was like the final years of puberty all over again, realizing that your admired guardian was far (far) more flawed than you thought.

 

Yuuri was well aware that if even if things went well, there was no guarantee he’d ever see Minako alive again. He’d spent these weeks with her refining the plan and trying to ensure their survival, but there were no guarantees.

 

With that in mind he tried coming Phichit, but the calls never went through. Yuuri did his best to ignore his trepidation (it wouldn’t be the first time missions lasted longer than a few weeks) and started writing and encoding a resumed version of everything Minako told him to send along their private chanel. Just in case. Just in case something happened--someone would know. And Phichit, with the resources of the Order behind him-- Phichit would be able to do something in case it all went wrong.

 

Otherwise, Yuuri spent every moment he could with his family. He helped his parents with the restaurant, he helped Mari with the finances (though he easily admitted she was better at it), and generally made himself useful around the inn, what little good that did.

 

Having spent nearly three weeks here, Yuuri had a clearer picture than when he’d arrived. Just as Minako had told him, people were leaving. Businesses weren’t hiring. Yu-topia Akatsuki was the last inn standing out of a dozen in this sector.

 

Things had been harsh during the Great Galactic War and during the immediate recovery, but tourism levels started rising as the economy of the mid-rim and inner rim gained new life. Now, with the new rumors about the Empire, tourism dropped to levels even worse than those during War. No one, especially the filthy rich, wanted to be on the border when one of the galactic super powers went to war with _itself_. The certainty that the Republic would not hesitate to take advantage didn’t help either.

 

For that alone Yuuri started to develop a bitter, burning hatred towards the Empire and its inability to maintain internal stability for all of _eleven years_.

 

Most of the time he was good at ignoring it existed, as it was not for Jedi to maintain such emotions. But here and now, realizing that his income from missions across the galaxy had probably supplemented his family more than they had told him?

 

Yuuri didn’t know how he was going to manage it, didn’t know how the situation would come, but he knew, in that moment, he was going to find a way to get rid of the Sith Emperor once and for all.

 

And if the rest of the Empire followed the steps of their monstrous ruler?

 

Loyalty to Minako or not, Yuuri would have to get rid of all of them as well.

 

*

 

The day the bantha shit hit hyperspeed saw Yuuri falling off his bed into an inglorious, tangled mess of bedsheets and panic.

 

There was little else he could do, a sudden feeling of doom crawling up his throat, his lightsaber ignited before he’d even realized he’d pulled it to his hand.

 

From below came a message, echoed around in all directions, distant, so close, and Yuuri shuddered as he made his ears listen to it--

 

_[-will be dealt with prejudice. Citizens of Hasetsu, please remain in your homes. Any spacecraft leaving the area without permission will be dealt with prejudice. Citizens of Hasetsu-]_

 

-hauling his clothing on autopilot, his supply bag in hand and V1C already rolling past his door, a reassuring hunk of beeps closely followed by Mari.

 

His sister looked paler than he's ever seen her, eyes roaming over his face desperately. Silently, they padded behind the onsen, his hand clenched tightly in hers. There was a back exit there, family only use for when the more mechanical baths needed maintenance. It was always their emergency escape, but Yuuri never thought he’d need to use it.

 

At the fence, Yuuri caught his sister in a tight hug, didn’t let the prickle in his eyes become full-blown tears. “Tell Mom and Dad I love them, and I’m sorry I brought them here--”

 

Mari squeezed him tighter. “Shut up, you be safe, okay? I don’t even want to hear anything about missing limbs, either.”

 

Yuuri huffed, because the alternative was crying. “Okay. And Mari--if Phichit shows up--tell him to follow the trail.”

 

She nodded, took one last look at him, instructed V1C to take care of him, and jogged back to the inn. Yuuri took it all in, more desperate than he had been at fourteen, leaving the planet for the first time. He was fully aware of the stakes this time.

 

_V1C = threat scan negative // V1C + Yuuri = proceed to spaceport?_

 

Yuuri jerked his eyes away from his house, leaning around the corner. So far the soldiers hadn’t reached this part of Hasetsu, but there was little doubt that wouldn’t last. It was far better to be cautious than to get himself spotted and start a fight with an invasive force, no matter how much he might want to.

 

Thank goodness Minako had left two days prior. Yuuri didn’t want to know what would have happened if she’d still been on-Planet now that the Empire has invaded. He prayed nothing went wrong on her end and that this was just another of their typical acts of aggression.

 

“Right. We’re moving out--stick to the side alleys, if you can. Slowly. Not too slow, but slower than you normally would.”

 

_Yuuri = not with V1C-T0R?_

 

Yuuri’s hesitation lasted only a second. V1C hadn’t been included in their talks and didn’t know the full details of the situation. But V1C had, in the month Yuuri had known him, carved a place for itself in Yuuri’s heart. And even if the droid hadn’t, he abruptly realised that it and Minako were the only two allies he had at the moment--and Minako was unavailable.

 

It was disconcerting. Yuuri shoved the thought to the back of his mind as soon as it came to him. “Yes, but you won’t be able to see me unless I’m close by, and I can’t move too fast while staying invisible.”

 

His force cloak, so strong as to even grant invisibility from droids with enhanced sensors was something of a badly kept secret. It wasn’t exactly a rare ability in the temple, nor limited to Force users.

 

But his stamina coupled with this technique and the ability to go completely invisible using just his mind--to easily pass through sensors and scanners and EMP fields meant to fry stealth field generators--was useful and not something he spread around needlessly.

 

V1C’s beeping voice brought his mind back into focus. _Yuuri = use stealth generator?_

 

“Something like that. Now let’s go.”

 

*

 

Yuuri’s prediction had been correct. The streets were all but empty, and he and V1C only had to go off-path to evade a scanner droid two times.

 

Their slow pace itched at Yuuri’s mind. While he could run while cloaked, it wasn’t something he could keep up for more than a few seconds. Regardless, any thoughts of _there was no need to cloak I should have run_ or _I could have just taken a speeder half the way_ fled completely once they came within sight of the spaceport.

 

It was overflowing with soldiers.

 

But, Yuuri realized a second later, those weren’t Imperial troops. The color scheme was all wrong, the armor too different, and Yuuri was willing to bet that most if not all of the soldiers were _droids_.

 

Large armoured close-range transport shuttles were resting in the front-most landing pads, and squads of soldiers--more droids?--dressed in white-plated armour, blasters held ready, were marching through the hallways and down the street. Floating Recon droids were already out and scanning every street and building they found, and it was more luck than anything that saved V1C and Yuuri from being spotted, so close as they were to the main street

  
Yuuri hissed through his teeth. This was what he was leaving his family-- _his planet_ \--with.

 

Such an unprompted invasion couldn’t be legal according to the Treaty, but what did the Empire ever care for rules of fair play? Worse, perhaps, the thought of what these new troops meant. New weapons? A separate faction? Had the Empire finally split?

 

His jaw clenched, his pride melting into a burning pool of anger. His only hope for his planet was to get a message to the Republic, then pray that the bureaucrats saw it reasonable to come to its aid.

 

Helplessness was something Yuuri was intimately acquainted with, and he could scarcely name an emotion that he hated more.

 

V1C’s processors whirled audibly, and the droid abruptly set off on a path distant from the soldiers, if not hidden altogether, until it reached the spaceport proper.

 

Yuuri crept after him as fast as he dared, skirting along the edges of the entrance, keeping as far from other beings as he could. V1C, brilliant little droid it was, grabbed a tool kit and set off its way around the hallways, looking for all the world like an ordinary astromech on duty. Yuuri stuck close to it, hand nearly resting on V1C’s plating, heartbeat echoing in his ears with every squad they passed.

 

Finally they reached the landing pad where Yuuri had left his shuttle, and his heart dropped.

 

Crates of the pre-placed supplies were neatly arranged on the platform’s edge, guarded by a group of soldiers. From the open entrance came one of the soldiers followed by a human technician who directed the troops with purposeful gestures as they organised their pilfered goods. She had a large, familiar data stick in hand.

 

“The have the travel logs,” Yuuri whispered to V1C. The droid hid behind a large crate upon arriving, but Yuuri hadn’t needed to bother.

 

_Shuttle = Surrounded?_

 

“Yes.” The Imperials would have to be taken out before they could get to the shuttle--or read the travel logs. If Yuuri was _especially_ unlucky, the logs would have his information printed on them as the shuttle’s current owner. If he was merely unlucky, it would have the Jedi Order listed as the owners. His eyes narrowed at the technician as she tucked the data stick into her pockets.

 

_Yuuri Katsuki + V1C = Fight Imperials // V1C = fully outfitted for battle_

 

Well, that was new and more than Yuuri had dared to hope. “How?”

 

_V1C = equipped with flamethrowers and shockers // V1C = qualified to terminate threats_

 

 _Where would you hide a_ flamethrower _?_ Yuuri almost asked. He threw his burning curiosity aside and analysed the situation. One team of soldiers (they _looked_ like the maybe-droids) was guarding the platform, and it seemed the other two were guarding the technician. Yuuri could take them on his own, but with V1C here he wouldn’t have to.

 

Getting into the atmosphere--well, his planet’s peaceful nature helped. There weren’t any canons to knock enemy ships out of the sky. The landing pad Yuuri had used was one of the larger ones, located outside of the main body of the spaceport. It was connected by a long ramp, and had probably been used to house fishing freighters before even that part of the economy took a blow. If they struck before reinforcements had time to arrive...

 

There was no way the Imperials would be able to stop them from booting up the engines and leaving the planet. Yuuri’s expression hardened with determination.

 

“Seven total. There are two soldiers carrying supplies,” he said. “Plus one technician that we need to take out. Your priority is to get to the shuttle and start up the engines. We need to be in the sky before they can sound an alarm.”

 

V1C beeped in confirmation, a string of binary Yuuri could only describe as anticipatory, and it rolled down the platform in a measured place, tool box still firmly in its grasp.

 

Yuuri crept after him, veering off the road onto the close-cut grass to circle behind two soldiers. This position left one soldier’s back completely open ( _sloppy, sloppy. A_ padawan _had better awareness than them_ ) and put another one half exposed.

 

The annoyed words of the technician drifted over, as she insisted that no, she hadn’t asked for a tool box, and V1C insisted right back that yes she did, he had the orders right there.

 

 _Clever droid._ Yuuri's lightsaber was held loosely in his grasp, small silent steps bringing him closer to the unaware soldiers. The technician huffed, turning sharply on her heel, her mouth a thin line. The tool box dropped, and she let out a scream as fire hit her squarely and set her alblaze.

 

Yuuri’s soldiers immediately went for their weapons, and Yuuri threw himself forward the last few feet, feeling his force cloak drop with the sudden movement. The twin blades ignited and cut in a curving arc straight through their backs, leaving deep, blackened gauges, fried wires exposed and crackling.

 

So Yuuri was right; these were droids. The implications of that were--something Yuuri would have to think over when they weren’t in imminent danger.

 

 _Four down,_ Yuuri thought as V1C spinned in a furious spiral, sending a wall of flame straight into the closest supply-burdened soldier, who was too startled to do more than scramble until it went down in a heap of fried metal. The other soldier Yuuri caught in an indelicate Force choke until the metal crunched into itself, then he threw it in the direction of the last two with a Force enhanced shove.

 

It freed his saber from constantly deflecting the bolts being sent his way, and Yuuri took a moment to recoup. V1C, making his way into the shuttle. The travel logs most likely burnt. Four down, and the next two--

 

One ducked as the fallen soldier’s body sailed over it, the other braced himself and kept firing. Yuuri ran towards the former, knocking it back with a well-placed kick to the sternum and cutting through its neck with a burning blade. The final soldier lept back and fired another quickly-blocked volley.

 

From the corner of one eye Yuuri saw soldiers streaming through the doorway, weapons held loosely and at ready.

 

From the other he saw the shuttle’s engines turning, ion blue glow heating up the air behind them. _Dangerous_. 

 

Yuuri wrapped the Force around the final soldier and shoved with a shout that was quickly covered by a garbled binary _scream_ , the soldier’s blaster clattering to the floor as its armor melted into itself from the ionic bast.

 

Yuuri’s ears echoed with the sound, the smoke twisting along his face and the smell of burning flesh too close for comfort. There’s bile in his throat, and he shoved it down along with his lightsaber, jumping into the shuttle and hitting the door closed.

 

He slid into the seat at the cockpit, taking reign of the controls until the shuttle lurched forward and up, past the height of the spaceport and into the cloudless skies. A small blip of light across his shield monitors showed deflected fire. V1C whirled out a curse that had Yuuri choke on his laughter, and then they were out of range. 

 

“Good job,” Yuuri said, once the pounding of his blood stopped being the loudest noise in his ears.

 

It came out more like a question than a compliment, but V1C chirped all the same, whirring as it disconnected from the ship and rolled to rest by Yuuri’s side. Yuuri side-eyed it, most of his attention focused on keeping the shuttle steady, the ship walls shaking with the rough launch. If they got out of this in one piece, Yuuri was going to make that droid explain every weapon it had hidden in its metal shell, along with whatever else it hadn’t told him.

 

 _Then,_ Yuuri thought, _I’ll explain everything I haven’t told_ it. It was only fair.

 

Yuuri’s entire body vibrated enough to make his teeth clatter, something he hadn’t felt in anything larger than a fighter before. Maybe it was Yuuri who was shaking. Yuuri who couldn’t bear look down at his planet one last time, who kept his eyes on the sky from fear of falling, as if he didn’t have a decade of flight experience under his belt.

Yuuri almost sighted from relief when the final tredges of Hasetsu fell behind him, an eternity of stars stretching ahead--and with them the battle cruiser stationed behind one of Hasetsu’s moons.

 

Yuuri’s body froze with renewed terror.

 

_Of course. They threatened to knock ships out of the sky, so they obviously had a way. Stupid!_

 

Damningly, the ship looked nothing like an Imperial Dreadnaught.

  
Instead of a gentle sigh, all the air in Yuuri’s body left in a harsh exhale, and he slowed the ship down as much as he dared to hide behind one of Hasetsu’s moons. “V1C,” he ordered. “Set hyperspace coordinates to--”

 

Oh. _Sith spit_.

 

Yuuri’s original plan of going to Tatooine was officially shot through along with all his stolen supplies. There was no way he could last the twenty days it would take to reach the Outer Rim on what he had. His eyes flickered to the battlecruiser. Hoth was out as well, being practically neighbors with the desert planet. That left Taris, conveniently located a day or so away from Hasetsu--but the distance from the local Imperial planets was even less than that. If this invasive force tracked him, sent the coordinates to someone in Imperial Space-

 

Yuuri skirted around the moon, his mind racing. If he could jump to Hutt Space, perhaps Nar Shaddaa, he could throw them off his tail. It would be tight, certainly, and Yuuri didn’t know if the Imps had also grabbed the shuttle’s emergency rations, but he could deal with starving for a few days until he reached that awful stain on manners--

 

But. Minako was in Nar Shaddaa. Yuuri could throw off their entire plan by fleeing there.

 

The galaxy map switching on with the press of a button, and with a hand Yuuri beconed V1C closer.

 

Yuuri glared at the distance between the three planets, willing the best answer to present itself before him. No answer yet, and the shuttle was nearly at the edge of the Moon. There was precious little time, and Yuuri knew the battlecruiser must be aware of him by now.

 

They exited the Moon.

 

V1C was silent but attentive by his side, a small hum of gears sounding from within. Yuuri stared at the galaxy map, a frustrated huff threatening to escape. Then his attention was caught by the two fighters that exited one of the battlecruiser’s hangers.

 

“V1C,” Yuuri ordered, praying he was right. “Set course for Taris.”

 

Yuuri's hands clenched around the controls as he narrowed his eyes, slamming the power into the forward thrusters. The Force sung in his ears, whispered _danger_ and _incoming_. The shuttle rolled to the side in the most slowest maneuver Yuuri had ever made, not hit by the sudden fire that skirted past by what felt like sheer luck.

 

The engines thrummed painfully behind him as the shuttle pushed to its top speed. _Just a little more to the right. Then I’ll be clear and in the direction for the jump!_

 

The shuttle had no weapons, so Yuuri was left to dodge for his life. The shuttle barrel-rolled, the top of the battlecruiser filling the viewport as Yuuri shot overhead, the two fighters hot on his tail. _Left_ , whispered the Force, and Yuuri moved. Another from above, and Yuuri rolled again. The shuttle shuddered with the movement, durasteel plates crashing together like war drums.

 

Yuuri could dodge for a while yet, but his shuttle clearly couldn’t. Left again, he felt, and tried to speed up and move in the same desperate move.

 

His chair jerked forward, the shuttle stuttering in space before Yuuri pushed it back on-course.

 

Red, angry light flickered across the controls, one of the ion engines down for the count. The shuttle suffered another bolt, this one to the side, virtually harmless. The energy field surrounding the shuttle dispersed this blow, but not the previous one. _They’d used misiles_ , Yuuri realized and cursed. “V1C!”

 

_V1C = need five more seconds._

 

Four--  Yuuri ducked to the side, another missile streaming past and exploding soundlessly in space, red-white sparks hitting the viewport.

 

Three --  One of the fighters shot forward, so easy and agile to maneuver, so certain in their own safety. Yuuri wished for nothing more than a small array of weapons at his immediate disposal.

 

Two -- Yuuri was moving forward, and so were they, and their directions are opposite. The Force whispered so softly in Yuuri’s ears he felt as if it were screaming, _go above_.

 

One -- The button designating an accepted hyperspace route flickered on, Yuuri ripped one hand off the controls to reach for the lever, fire hitting the viewport yet again.

 

Zero -- Yuuri’s hand crashed down, the shuttle jerked forward--once, twice--and red filled his view.

 

-

(In the far-yet-close distance, bright green eyes snapped open, and a scream of rage echoed across the half-empty rooms of a Dromund Kaas apartment.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally happening! If anyone notices it, then yes Yuuri is based off the Sith Inquistor and Minako is most definitely a Zash stand in, with obvious differences. And yes, the next sequence of events is based off Chapter 2 in the Sith Inquisitor's story...to a point. If you find anything confusing, please let me know and I'll make an annotation explaining it! (Also if you notice a typo or any glaring mistakes ^-^')
> 
> [1] Datacrons (Data Holocron): Small cubes that contain enormous amounts of information. Think quantum computers, almost. Lore-wise, they're spin-offs of holocrons (Holographic Chronicles), which are also small cubes with gigantic amounts of information, with the difference that holocrons can only be accessed by Force-users.
> 
> In game there was this optional 'quest' to hunt down all the datacrons. ^-^ fun times platforming in a non-platforming game, but at the end I got really good at it tbh. Anyone else from the swtor crowd manage to catch them all?


	3. In Plain Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! A bit less wait time than the other two, thank goodness for that. It's also 8k so yay. Let me know if there is anything that's hard for non-star wars junkies/fans to understand! Also any spelling mistakes! I've been really busy and will probably continue to be busy, so this is fresh out of the oven and might have mistakes. Edit: I ended up changing 'tablets' to datacrons.
> 
> I hope you enjoy ^-^. A shout out to Basia for helping with the plot of the rest of this fic. Go and read her fics guys. They're good and fluffy viktuuri.
> 
> (In a side note, the alternative title for this chapter was "Yuuri's no good, very bad, terrible day")

The red, flashing lights of the computer had been on all day long. Yuuri’s fingers gripped the controls with all his strength, wishing now that he had spent a few moments trying to turn them off instead of hiding them with his cloak as he tried and failed to sleep.

 

They were minutes from reaching Taris, and Yuuri had no idea if they would survive re-entry into normal space, much less into the planet. Phichit was the mechanic, not Yuuri. Even V1C’s mechanical expertise was limited to how much of the engines it could reach from inside the shuttle.

 

Yuuri’s one saving grace was that the fighters hadn’t hit the hyperdrive engine. The last thing he wanted was for his body to be ripped apart and scattered across the galaxy in atomic bits.

 

He shuddered, casting a glance back at the engine room. V1C was still doing whatever he could to keep the leftmost ion engine together.

 

There was nothing to be done for the right engine. Except, of course, making it stop smoking and disconnecting it. Half the years of Yuuri’s life must have been shaved off when it started _sparking_.

 

He took stock of the rest of the ship. The emergency rations had been raided and stuffed into his bags. His bags were in a compartment in the opened escape pod. The escape pod was their way out if they didn’t blow up immediately upon exiting hyperspace.

 

It might also be their doom if they fell into one of the camps on the Imperial side of Taris.

 

Yuuri tried not to think about that. His eyes felt crusty already from sleep deprivation and stress tears, _and_ he couldn’t afford to cry while piloting. He’d tried before. Not something he recommended while navigating a debris field.

 

 _You’ve trained for this_ , he told himself. _All those crash-survival simulations must be good for something._

 

 _Except I_ died _ninety percent of the time._

 

Including _that time I tried to land the_ Brental Star _on Taris!_

 

Yuuri was going to die. Yuuri was going to crash and die, and take poor V1C with him. V1C didn’t deserve to die because Yuuri was incompetent!

 

The computer started beeping, the tell-tale sign of a hyperspace exit, and the red flashing lights mocked Yuuri with their meaning.

 

As quick as lightning the flashing lights of stars fell away from the viewport, throwing the shuttle out of hyperspace as they did.

 

The one sputtering engine did it’s best to freeze them (sparks flying as it did, much to Yuuri’s distantly-noted horror and V1C’s annoyed beeping). Yuuri’s pounding heart nearly drowned out the realization that they were _alive_ . Still moving from unchecked inertia, but _alive_.

 

Yuuri could kiss this shuttle. It’s been so good to him. Yuuri’s sad that they’re going to have to part this way, and hoped at least some scraps survive.

 

Then Yuuri did the stupidest thing he had done all year: he pushed the engine as high as it could go.

 

The shuttle went into a lopsided curve into the planet, Yuuri trying to align his holographic map with the real deal in front of him. Soon, they would be coming towards the area where the _Brental Star_ made her fatal landing. From this distance, nearly skimming past the atmosphere, they should even be able see it.

 

Yuuri sent a prayer to every god they could think off as they hit the atmosphere proper, sparks flying up from the viewport as he did his best to keep the rattling shuttle stable.

 

 _There!_ The closest thing to an impact crater it would have (wildlife encroaching over everything, merging with the broken edges of a city that once covered the planet) and the broken metallic glint of a battleship wreckage.

 

“V1C! The pod!” Yuuri cried.

 

V1C immediately left the engine to start up the escape pod. Abandoned, the engine gave three pitiful whirls before bursting into flames.

 

Yuuri hit autopilot, sent another prayer and a plead for forgiveness from any inhabitants in the area, and ran to the pod.

 

The last thing he saw before it impacted with the ground was the ship turning into a fireball.

 

-

 

Yuuri groaned as he peeled off the safety gear that lodged him into the pod’s side. V1C, held safe by metallic clamps as it was, had an easier time of getting free and set about opening the pod’s door.

 

 _Yuuri Katsuki = Safe?_ It asked.

 

 _No_ , Yuuri thought. _I’m unvaccinated in an escape pod in a planet known for it’s deadly viral infection trying to stop the most powerful madman in the galaxy from killing everything and also there is yet another third party taking place in all of this and I have no idea what I’m doing we would literally be more safe waving around wads of credits in the scummiest places of Nar Shaddaa while wearing a bikini and oiled up._

 

“Yeah,” is what Yuuri said, three seconds from throwing himself on the pod’s floor and staying there for an hour. “You?”

 

_V1C = Fully operational // V1C = scan for threats_

 

“Thanks.”

 

Despite his best efforts, Yuuri sank to the floor. His shaking knees could barely support him, and he keenly felt his lack of sleep in his dry, drooping eyes. Stupid, stupid. He should have forced himself to sleep. Instead, Yuuri spent the entire trip worrying and wondering and plotting what he would do to survive.

 

And he did.

 

And now what?

 

He had a plan for that too, didn’t he.

 

It was in there somewhere, and was probably more detailed than ‘get to the temple and leave’.

 

Check the map first. Minako’s instructions had assumed he’d be landing on the station, not the planet. He tried to land in the area where the temple was, but who knew how successful that would be. So, the map.

 

Then what?

 

He’d need to go outside. Go outside, fight his way through a planet that had resisted recolonization for three hundred years.

 

Do that _without_ getting infected.

 

If infected, run to the nearest camp.

 

Scratch that. Try to run to the nearest _Republic_ camp.

 

What if there were no Republic camps nearby? What if it was all Imperial outposts crawling with Sith? Which faction ruled this area again?

 

No no, focus. Get to temple, find datacron. Get out of temple and to the nearest Republic camp. Lie his way out of the planet.

 

Figure out a way to get to _another_ planet. All the way across the galaxy. With no supplies but the ones stashed into a compartment...that V1C was opening. Yuuri stared until it beeped and extended a metallic arm to rest on Yuuri’s hand.

 

Yuuri swallowed and threw his hands around the droid, pulling the droid into a tight hug.

 

At least, Yuuri wouldn’t have to do all that _alone_.

 

-

 

It took him more time than he liked to put himself back into a respectable state.

 

A quick check to the maps Minako passed him showed that Yuuri’s calculations landed him within a day’s travel of the tomb. _Half a day at most,_ Yuuri estimated based off the various geographical features he could see.

 

Yuuri would love to take the time to nap, but now that he had landed in a contested zone (better than Imperial, right? _Right?_ ) he knew time was of the essence. It wouldn’t be long before officials come to see if anyone survived the crash, nor will it take them long to find the escape pod. Yuuri dreaded the moment the crash hits galactic news.

 

Besides, the crash might have scared off most of the wildlife, but rakghouls... weren’t necessarily wildlife. They might even be attracted by the crash.

 

Yuuri didn’t know the idea of people coming for him after a crash could be so horrifying, but rakghouls couldn’t be classified as people either. Not anymore.

 

He shuddered. Whether he ran into the creatures or not, Yuuri would get his hands on a vaccine as soon as possible.

 

Then, he shouldered the backpack with their emergency rations and he and V1C set off.

 

-

 

It took them six hours.

 

With no wildlife nearby, it was easy enough to hear the rustling of the underbrush that the monstrous Rakghouls made.

 

Their pale, putrid skin stretched over their engorged heads and gaping, toothed mouths. Once, Yuuri had read a report on them. It severely underestimated them. Reports had cam shots, descriptions, even an analysis of the transformation process and cure.

 

It didn’t mention the _smell_ of rotting flesh and dried blood that clung to them.

 

Thankfully, the report mentioned enough of their tactics that Yuuri was able to plot his way around them. They hunted mainly by smell, their tiny black eyes barely able to distinguish colors.

 

It made Yuuri grateful that he’d learned stealth the way he had. By actively messing with the minds of his targets instead of just their eyes, Yuuri was able to go undetected as they circled around the seemingly uncaring and mindless packs.

 

Even better: they didn’t care for metal objects unless attacked by one. V1C was safe to scout ahead as he pleased.

 

Even with this stroke of luck, by the time they finally reach the temple Yuuri’s eyelids were drooping. He couldn’t go a few meters without constantly glancing over his shoulders, and at this point he was sure that the only thing keeping him upright was the mission.

 

He really should have taken that nap.

 

He was so out of his mind that noticing the dark oppression that curled into being was a relief instead of a source of panic. The temple was near, and Yuuri almost dropped to his knees when it finally came into view.

 

The brown archway was the only structure not overtaken by vines, as if though nature itself could sense the evil of the Dark, and no matter how much Yuuri peered in all he could see was black.

 

Unfortunately, the only way to go now was forward. There really was no turning back.

 

“Keep guard,” Yuuri told V1C. “If anyone suspicious comes around--if _anything_ comes around, comm immediately.”

 

V1C bepped its agreement, swirling around to keep dutiful watch. Yuuri smiled, barely resisting the urge to coo. He wrapped that feeling around himself as he went down the steep and rocky steps of the temple.

 

It was a meager comfort as he reached the innermost chamber.

Yuuri had always hated how the inside of Sith temples looked. Dreary and hair-raising, full of dark corners and dim lights that only served to make shadows more pronounced and any sculptures more horrifying.

 

Plus, Yuuri didn’t associate Sith tombs with good memories. The few times he’s been in one was because some crazy Lord decided it would make a good hideout as they plotted out their nefarious schemes.

 

(At least they were better than a high-tech lair with cameras in every corner and more guards than there were Jedi. Which thanks, Darth Battu. You and your incompetent cult-cultivating skills sucked. Have fun in prison watching Phichit turn it into a spy ring, nerf-herder.)

 

In comparison to those, this grave was almost austere in its simplicity.

 

Even though this was a new grave, it appeared older than it was, what with the crumbling edges and dust-covered floors. It spoke of neglect, but some part of Yuuri hesitated. From a certain angle, the dust and the crumbled stone looked _planned_.

 

The stairs leading from the small entrance tapered off into a modest cavern, with carvings of the Sith Code into the walls and fewer statues than Yuuri was expecting. He admittedly didn’t have _that_ much experience with these places, but in his mind there were more carved monstrosities meant to frighten, more statues of supplicating slaves and locked armories with treasures.

 

It was like someone had traded all of that for--what--old dust? Crumpled stone? Something that looked as old as the ancient Jedi temples on Tython?

 

 _It’s better like this,_ Yuuri thought _.  Less obvious places for people to find dangerous apocalyptic datacrons._

 

It was also harder for Yuuri to find dangerous apocalyptic datacrons.

 

Minako mentioned hiding them in a compartment under the grave, ostensibly used by the True Sith to hide any important items they wished to keep unto death. Unfortunately, that made it a prime target for tomb-raiders with enough knowledge of Sith graves.

 

The compartment should only be opened by those with Force access, but that wouldn’t stop someone with a lack of respect and a powerful drill. Yuuri was thankful that didn’t appear to be the case here. The grave was intact, and the compartment should open...

 

There. A small node facing the stairs that Yuuri wouldn’t have noticed had he not been looking for it. It even resembled the mechanisms to open holocrons. Yuuri kneeled down and concentrated, pushed the force into it and around until he activated the gears.

 

The compartment groaned as it rolled from the grave, dust lightly falling from the geometric engravings. Inside was the precious, terrible datacron. Yuuri exhaled sharply, relief making his limbs shake as he pulled the datacron out.

 

It was a pyramid, oddly enough, and echoed strangely in the Force. Yuuri had expected something different than the standard Sith 'crons. Something more dramatic, as befitting of the monstrous Emperor. But as expected, Yuuri couldn’t understand a single thing written on it. Nothing in the geometric script along its edges suggested the horrors the text held inside contained.

 

Suddenly, Yuuri couldn’t stand to look at it.

 

He grabbed the bag specifically set aside to carry the datacron, placing it inside securely and putting the bag back into his pack. Then he concentrated once more to close the compartment and tried to scatter the dust back on it.

 

Good enough. It wasn’t like Yuuri would be here much longer--

 

"Hey asshole!" and a wave of fury were the only warnings Yuuri got before a lightsaber swung towards his face.

 

Yuuri narrowly dodged the strike, saberstaff switching on to parry a follow-up blow. He grunted, the force on his one hand nearly making him buckle into the grave behind him. He quickly readjusted to force his attacker back and take stock.

 

"You fucker!" his _young_ human attacker snarled, pushing Yuuri deeper into the carvings. "You leave my grandfather’s grave alone."

 

Yuuri stared at the teen, arms straining behind the unexpected force. What part of him wasn’t focusing on keeping the enemy lightsaber away from his face took a moment to curse out Minako.

 

She just had to kill someone with _family_.

 

Then Yuuri shoved him back with a force push.

 

The blond took the momentum admirably, springing back and landing into a crouched attacking position. Yuuri used the reprieve to dash away from the grave and into a better position that, unfortunately, left him opposite the stairs with the blond blocking his way.

 

Was he followed? How did this person even know he was here, and worse yet, how much did he know? Who did he work with? Why had V1C not commed?!

 

“Maybe,” Yuuri called out with more confidence than he felt. “We could relax a bit. And talk. Who are you?”

 

His attacker scoffed. “Talk? _Talk_? You fuck-ass graverobber!”

 

Yuuri danced out of the way of another attack, sweat dripping down his brow as he keenly felt his exhaustion catch up to him. His comm _pinged_ , the noise echoing in the cavern, and then the call fell silent.

 

That had probably been V1C. _Sithspit_.

 

Could nothing go right? Yuuri would really like to sit on the floor of his nice apartment in Coruscant and eat katsudon until the world decided to be nice again.

 

Unfortunately, he was stuck in a tomb with a tiny angry stronger-than-he-looked Sith. A Sith who looked at Yuuri the same way those giant cats that tried to eat him on Hoth did. Except he was tiny, so he was more like a kitten. A dangerous, lightsaber dual-wielding kitten.  

 

As though he could read Yuuri’s thoughts, the Sith’s glare got impossibly darker. He gestured with his lightsaber, the chopping motion and answering vibrations too loud for Yuuri's ears. “Well, what the fuck are you doing here?”

 

Too sloppy as well. Not the stance, no. That was perfect. But this Sith’s anger was making him do things like gesture with lightsabers. Had no one taught him to keep his stance ready at all times?

 

"The fuck you think you are!"

 

Yuuri started. He’d said that out loud. He needed to get out, and fast, before he made any other mistakes. The stairs weren’t far away. Yuuri could push this kid away and make a run for them, cloaking himself at the sharp corner turn and waiting for the kid to leave and then-

 

The Sith growled, shifting Yuuri’s attention back towards him. Yuuri slid tighter into his stance, hands tightening over his saberstaff and preparing to meet the next attack with enough force to slam the Sith into a wall.  “You know what, nevermind, if you’re not going to answer, I'm just going to kill you."

 

He made good at his word, coiling down for what’s clearly a force enhanced jump, twin 'sabers in perfect lunge stances.

 

"I did try to teach him awareness," a cheerful voice interjected. "But unfortunately he doesn’t listen as well as he should."

 

Yuuri's saberstaff swung as he turned towards the voice to keep both Sith(?) his sight, his stance shifting to compensate for multiple enemies. When had this other person appeared? More importantly, how was he able to hide his presence so well? Yuuri felt nothing until he decided to reveal himself.

 

He must have been cloaked. _Great_. Who knew how many other enemies were hidden?!

 

“Although to be fair, it seems like you aren’t much better, little Jedi.” Yuuri scowled at the stairs where he’d noticed the voice coming from.

 

His attacker grit his teeth, not making a move from where he was coiled and glaring at Yuuri. "Fuck off, Viktor. This is personal and none of your business."

 

"On the contrary," a masked, armored, humanoid being that could only be ‘Viktor’ stepped out from one of the pillars lining the entrance. "As my apprentice this is clearly my business. You also ran off in the middle of the night for no reason _and_ you stole my personal shuttle. Quite rude. I was deeply hurt."

 

The air around the blond shimmered with his anger, and for a few seconds Yuuri wondered if he was going to set himself on fire just from sheer frustration, or spring into attack even with this new player in the room. He opened his mouth, but Viktor turned towards Yuuri before he could speak. "And you." Viktor paused, finger rising to where Yuuri supposed his lips were.

 

Yuuri tensed. Just because he couldn't feel any negative intentions from this Viktor didn't mean he wasn't just hiding them far better than his apprentice. What little he could feel of his force signature spoke of tight control and power. Danger. This wasn't someone he could afford to underestimate, especially if he was here to help his apprentice.

 

“You,” Viktor paused dramatically. “Are disappointing.”

 

Yuuri’s mouth dropped. “ _Excuse me?!_ ”

 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said insincerely. “I was expecting whoever could draw my apprentice’s attention in such a manner to be more interesting. What are you doing so far from home, little Jedi? Besides robbing a tomb of course. And here I thought your kind had morals.”

 

Oh, Yuuri was going to cleave his lightsaber straight through Viktor’s mask.

 

“It’s _none_ of your business.”

 

“Ah, but it’s a Sith tomb that you are clearly desecrating. It’s my _duty_ to make it my business.”

 

“I’m not desecrating anything,” Yuuri spat. His plans were going to need a quick adjustment--the two Sith were two far apart to be taken out in one push-- but getting out of Taris quickly was out of the question now.

 

The apprentice was fuming at being ignored, Yuuri felt. But he didn’t seem about to act while his Master was speaking. He’d uncurled from of his lunge-ready stance and into something more relaxed, even as he scowled at the room in general. Good, Yuuri could take advantage of that.

 

As for Viktor...Yuuri could definitely catch him by surprise. _Disappointing._  How dare this Sith go around telling Yuuri he was disappointing?! Who gave him any right?!

 

The Sith in question tilted his head to the side, a finger rising up towards the mouthplate on his mask. Viktor _hummed_ , but Yuuri didn’t give him any chance to speak.

 

Instead, Yuuri sprinted at the blond Sith, pushing the twin blades away with his staff and throwing the young teen with a force-enhanced kick. He felt the teen’s lack of serious armor keenly as the youth’s ribs broke under his foot as he flew back onto the grave with a dust-raising crash.

 

He had no chance to feel bad, as Viktor had already ignited his singular lightsaber and was ready when Yuuri rushed at him.

 

Viktor hit far, far harder than the blond, easily parrying the strike. At least his emotional control broke, and Yuuri felt his surprise in the Force. It filled him with vicious satisfaction that was most likely felt by his enemy, and for once, Yuuri didn’t care.

 

What he did care for was Viktor pushing him back and swinging his lightsaber to gather energy for a follow-up strike. Behind him, the blond apprentice had shaken off his injuries, or so it seemed with the way he screamed and ran at Yuuri.

 

Yuuri saw his chance.

 

He ducked as the apprentice lunged into a strike, grabbing him with the Force and using his own momentum against him. This time the blond resisted, clearly expecting Yuuri to be up to something, but it wasn’t enough to break from the hold, and Yuuri threw him with even greater force than he’d used before.

 

Straight. At. Viktor.

 

Just as Yuuri expected, Viktor powered off his lightsaber to not skewer his apprentice, and in doing so wasn’t fast enough to dodge the human thrown at him.

 

Yuuri didn’t pause before he ran for the stairs, taking them three steps at the time until the blinding light of outside filtered through.

 

He’d escaped! And V1C was--lying on the grass sideways, a red-headed human female in Sith Intelligence uniform kneeling beside him, cables connecting her pad with its body. Yuuri could see a restraining bolt over its command central, probably the reason it tried to comm only once. Next to her, a golden male twi’lek sharing her uniform was staring towards Taris, blaster in hand. They, and the third man (a Chiss, this time. And probably a Sith from his outfit and excessive use of mascara, odd though that was for his species) turned as Yuuri ran out the temple. [2]

 

They all paused and stared at each other, the situation clearly not being as anyone had expected it to be.

 

Hadn’t Yuuri wondered if there were more enemies? Why had he not wondered at V1C not rushing to aid Yuuri? Why hadn’t he considered the fact that Viktor and his apprentice had done the same as Yuuri and left their allies outside to warn them of danger?!

 

Yuuri’s vision, not quite yet adjusted to the sunlight as it was, blurred. He felt exhaustion dragging every limb as he raised his saberstaff and tried to focus enough for another Force push. In the meantime, the twi’lek had trained his blaster on Yuuri, and the other two had pulled out weapons and held them at ready.

 

Yuuri cursed his weakness as his vision blurred more, and only a brief warning let him twist around in time to see Viktor run out the temple. Neither his stance nor the Force energy he’d tried to pull on stopped Yuuri from feeling his windpipe nearly crushed.

 

Viktor raised his arm, fingers curled around air the approximate width of Yuuri neck, and Yuuri could feel every twitch in them echo through the Force and onto Yuuri’s straining throat. He gasped for air as he was raised up and off the ground by the hold on his neck, saberstaff still in hand by stubbornness alone as the exhaustion in his limbs tripled with the lack of air.

 

Just as he felt the desperate need to breathe, a sharp shock of electricity ran through his body, and everything went dark.

 

-

 

Viktor threw the datacron onto the table.

 

That wasn’t quite what he did, of course, but it summed up his desire to smash it into pieces against the wall well enough. No, instead of fulfilling his true desire, or even the watered down version of it, Viktor gently set the datacron on the table and huffed.

 

Nothing.

 

A few seconds past the two hour mark, and he had made absolutely no progress on the datacron.

 

Oh, he’d determined plenty about it, sure.

 

It was ancient, for one, at least several hundred years old by Viktor’s guess (which, admittedly, was unrefined at best).

 

It was also of Sith origin, which only fueled Viktor’s curiosity in it.

 

And, of course, it was important enough that a Jedi had presumably come to Taris just to get it from Nikolai Plisetsky’s tomb. Though no one, not even Yura, knew what a highly-encrypted ancient datacron-that-acted-like-a-holocron was doing in his grandfather’s grave, nor had his vision revealed more than the Jedi graverobber and a sense of impending doom.

 

But when it came to the actual encryption, all Viktor had been able to make out were two separate entries. The original text, which was so incomprehensible that Mila threw in the chips barely ten minutes in, and the second entry, a decade or two old but secure enough that Mila would need to work full-time on it just to begin to decipher it, if that was even possible.

 

“It looks like it’s missing something,” she’d said. “The key, obviously, but see those things up here.” The 'cron had had two little nubs on the upper corner of each side of the pyramid. “They look like really, _reeeeally_ ancient transmitters. It’s like it’s a part of a set, or meant to hook into another machine. We’re seeing an incomplete message here. And I _hate_ those. They make everything so much harder. Not to mention whatever is going on with the secondary features. Did you know that was possible?”

 

Viktor hadn't known it was possible, but Viktor wasn't a scientist. His knowledge was limited to datacrons being datacrons and holocrons being holocrons, not this odd mix of encrypted information accesible without the Force, and whatever it was that even _with_ the Force Viktor couldn't figure out how to access it, much less what it was. 

 

It was a piece of a puzzle, but Viktor had no idea what the finished product even was. The only one who did was the Jedi.

 

The Jedi who Viktor had taunted, had his words (and apprentice) thrown back into his face in what was the most utterly surprising moment of this entire year, and who Viktor had then force choked long enough that Christophe could shock the man unconscious.

 

Viktor wasn’t feeling very optimistic about the Jedi’s cooperativeness.

 

He hated torturing things out of people too. It was so inefficient and messy. And Chris hadn’t been able to find anything on the Jedi either. Whatever information had been in the shuttle that presumably belonged to him was lost in the wreckage, he had no easily-identifiable net presence to stalk, and by getting her to pick at the 'cron, Viktor had distracted Mila from her hacking of the droid’s annoyingly well-guarded information.

 

He’d sent her back to it after they realized the datacron was going to take the work of months to begin to decrypt. Viktor needed whatever information that droid had. The Jedi was awake now, according to Chris, and Viktor wanted to talk to him before Yura got wind of it and tried to spring himself from his makeshift hospital jail cell for a rematch.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, then grimaced and patted it back into order. The datacron went into his personal safe.

 

Viktor made his way down the stairs from the captain’s cabin and into the living room proper, where Mila had the droid powered up and was rifling through its innards. It saw him and began beeping up a storm of expletives. Apparently restraining bolts did nothing to prevent the astromech from beeping its opinionated thoughts. Viktor was charmed.

 

“You,” Viktor told it, his frustration giving way to amusement, “are not fit to talk to in polite company.”

 

Mila laughed at the particular wording of the answer _that_ earned, which targeted at least five generations of Viktor’s family. Had the Jedi taught the droid to speak like that? Viktor didn’t even know whether it fits with what he knows of Jedi in general, much less this particular Jedi.

 

His first impression of an exhausted, nearly beaten man had been so far from the truth after all. Viktor’s pelvis still ached from falling on it after getting Yura thrown at him.

 

(Even worse, Viktor had been there for the med-droid’s analysis. The Jedi had been running on willpower alone. Exhaustion in body and mind were present, yet he’d still nearly evaded a Dark Council member and his apprentice. Viktor was, for the first time in a long while, desperate to have a duel with a Jedi).

 

At this point, a Jedi teaching his astromech to curse like a pirate seemed reasonable enough. Especially if it was that Jedi, with his rock-hard shields, who had felt enough satisfaction at getting one over Viktor and Yura that it saturated the Force with his vicious, triumphant (if short-lived) glory.

 

“Anything?” Viktor asked, leaning on the backrest of the couch.

 

“A name,” Mila answered. The droid’s particular answer to _that_ would have made a much younger Viktor wince, and Mila swatted it. “Oh hush, you. The Jedi’s name is Yuuri Katsuki. At least, that’s V1C-T0R’s owner. That was a hilarious designation to discover by the way.” She gestured grandly between them. “Viktor, meet your mechanical namesake. V1C, Viktor.”

 

V1C-T0R told him, in detail, how to use his lightsaber as a dildo.

 

Viktor was kidnapping the droid and making Yura learn binary. It would be the start of a beautiful friendship that would terrify all his underlings for the rest of eternity. Yakov would have a heart attack. It would be _glorious_.

 

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor said, curling the name across his tongue. That was interesting. Now two sets of people (though Viktor couldn't exactly count V1C-T0R as a people) on this ship shared names. He wondered if that was significant. You never knew in this galaxy.  “Anything else on him?”

 

Mila shook her head. “Few things of use. He was on a planet called Hasetsu before coming here, but I’m still trying to figure out where that planet even is. It certainly isn’t on standard Imperial maps. I might have to make a subroutine from the mainframe to search all known inhabited planets near this sector. I doubt it has to do anything with the datacron--he seemed to have been visiting family before whatever caused him to bolt and crash on this planet a few days ago. Other than that? Nothing.” To V1C-T0R she said, “Whoever programmed you did a great job. I’d love to hire them.”

 

V1C-T0R cursed at her, albeit in a far nicer way than he’d talked to Viktor. Viktor had a feeling they‘ve bonded. “Good enough. You have my permission to make that subroutine,” he said, lightly springing back from the couch. “I want to know everything about him. But if you need me, I have a prisoner to bluff into giving up information.”

 

“I thought prisoners were Chris’ specialty.”

 

“They are, but I’m curious.”

 

“Because _that_ always ends well. Have fun, then. Chris said Yuuri wasn’t cooperative--that’s going to get confusing real fast, you know. That statement works for both the Yu(u)ri's. One of them needs a nickname, and I vote for our Yuri. We can call him Baby Yuri. Yuri Jr. Yuri the small and feisty. Tiny McYuri.”

 

“I give you one time calling him that before he tries to chop your head off,” Viktor said.

 

Mila nonchantly waved him off before going back to her hacking. “Bah, I’d love to see him try. You go pick at your Jedi, and I’ll come up with names for the littlest Yuri of them all.”

 

‘The littlest Yuri of them all’ Viktor mouthed to himself with a grin. He shook his head, putting his faceplate back on as he approached the holding cell of the _Phantom_.

 

Show time.

 

*

 

Yuuri’s hands were flat on his knees, meditating as he was. Not deep enough, of course.

 

Others had always been better at meditation than Yuuri.

 

Others--Yuuko and Phichit came to mind-- would also be better at avoiding giving answers. Interrogation had never been Yuuri’s forte either, regardless if he was the interrogator or interrogee. Interrogated? Interro--

 

They would interrogate him, Yuuri knew, even before that flirty twi’lek had come to try and wheedle information out of him. The fact that he was in a specialized holding cell spoke as much. At least they hadn’t put any shock collars on him, or resorted to torture during his first interrogation. His mind had done a wonderful job at giving ideas of all the terrible things the Sith might come up with now that he hadn’t cooperated.

 

Would they use torture droids? Hallucinogens? Old fashioned brute force? Electrocution? Maybe they’d use a lightsaber, since the plasma blades cauterized all wounds it would last longer and Yuuri would feel his flesh peel off and burn again and again and aga--

 

The door to the cell swished open. Yuuri recognized the Force presence first, his eyes still stubbornly shut. It was Viktor.

 

“Hello,” Viktor said. Now that Yuuri’s senses were sharper, he noticed that the mask gave a distorted impression of his voice, like it was being scrambled by a computer.

 

Yuuri remained silent, tried to not let his annoyance (fearangerdespairhumiliation) show in the Force or his face.

 

“You _do_ realize it’s rude to have your eyes closed when people are speaking to you?” The Sith’s smooth voice said. He sounded amused, and it infuriated a hastily-squashed part of Yuuri.

 

“It’s rude to have your eyes closed during _conversations_ ,” Yuuri corrected, still not opening his eyes. His skin prickled under his robes, his instincts running wild and high. How could Celestino maintain the illusion of nonchalance with ease?

 

“We’re having a conversation right now.”

 

“I have nothing to say to you.”

 

“You’re awfully chatty for someone who has nothing to say, Yuuri Katsuki.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open.

 

The Sith’s masked visage greeted him, revealing nothing of the amusement he must no doubt be feeling.

 

“How?”

 

“Your astromech was quite talkative...with the right incentive, of course.”

 

Emotion and peace. Emotion yet peace. Emotion with ---Yuuri snapped. “If you’ve hurt him,” he said lowly, full of intent.

 

Now Viktor was obviously amused. Yuuri could feel it in the Force, and it made his eyes narrow in an ill-concealed glare. “You’ll what? Break out from this holding cell? Fight your way across the ship? _Escape_?”

 

Viktor laughed like it was a joke. “I worry that your brain was fried, with ideas like that. Your time unconscious is nowhere near to recover from your exhaustion, is it.” It wasn’t a question. Viktor raised his hand to tap his mouthplate again. “No, despite your impressive showing in the temple--you’re still far more mediocre than you usually are, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri fumed quietly, taking deep breaths as he did so in a vain effort to calm himself. And how would Viktor know what Yuuri usually was? Had V1C recorded the fight on Hasetsu as they escaped? Did they find some record of Yuuri in the holonet?

 

Or was it just Viktor playing mind games?

 

“What do you want?” Yuuri asked.

 

“A many great things.” Viktor replied blandly. “But currently...why don’t we get to know each other, Yuuri~” He stretched out the ‘u’s, singsong.

 

Yuuri glared. “Seriously?”

 

“Very. We can even play a game--you can tell me all about your family on Hasetsu,” Yuuri’s blood ran cold, an unprecedented fury-fear coursing through him, his fingers digging into his knees, “and about how that _charming_ droid came to be in your possession, and, of course, why you felt the need to rob a grave to get a highly encrypted, several thousand year old datacron.”

 

Yuuri raised his head, which he’d lowered in an effort to conceal his emotions. The dark eyeshields of Viktor’s mask revealed nothing of the creature underneath.

 

Viktor didn’t know.

 

Yuuri had, over the course of his fretful meditation en-route to Taris, come to the conclusion that the unknown invaders had known about Minako and the datacrons.

 

It just didn’t make sense otherwise. The Force moved in mysterious ways, and it’s been theorized that certain events are always destined to pass, even if the minutiae of individual creatures was uncertain and ever-shifting.

 

Why would have Yuuri and Minako both received visions if not to warn them of the trouble? Why had Yuuri been directed towards Hasetsu if not face a threat? Why would, at the same time all this happens, tiny Hastesu suddenly come into the radar of a faction with enough power to build a fully-armed army and keep it hidden from the Republic? (Considering the outcome of the last time that had happened, Yuuri wasn't feeling optimistic about this unknown.)

 

Hypothesis: The faction was always after the datacron.

 

Presumed fact: The Emperor is paranoid enough that only he or his most trusted will know the datacrons exist.

 

Conclusion: The faction operates for the Emperor, trusted enough to be after Minako and the datacrons, somehow evading detection for--forever.

 

And Viktor wasn’t part of the faction. Otherwise the question of the datacrons wouldn’t be _what._ It would be _where_.

 

 _Plus_ , Yuuri thought wryly, _if he_ was _with the Emperor I’d probably have been taken to him._

 

_Although…_

 

Hadn’t Viktor mentioned they were on a ship? Yuuri couldn’t feel the familiar rumble of hyperspace around them, so they might yet be docked somewhere. Taris, of course, didn’t allow any ships but cargo freighters to dock on-planet, and Yuuri is more than certain this isn’t a freighter, so they must be on the Orbital Station.

 

Not immediately useful knowledge, but at least Yuuri won’t try to cut a hole in the hull once he gets his saber back.

 

Unless, of course, they had gone to an entirely different planet in the time that Yuuri was unconcious. Like Dromund Kass. What if they were on Dromund Kass?! Yuuri was not prepared to be on Dromund Kass. He wasn’t even prepared to face Nar Shaddaa, and all Yuuri did there was get horrifically drunk and accidentally take over a cult.

 

He’s not prepared to face an evil, intergalactic cult that wanted to kill him!

 

Yuuri had a good strategy for dealing with his problems, past mistakes, and uncomfortable situations: ignore them.

 

Depressingly, it stopped working sometime between that explosion on Alderaan and the disaster on Corellia.

 

Viktor was still standing there, for one, in his stupid mask with golden accents and his stupid armor with shining plating and even more gold. Yuuri spitefully hoped he’s ugly under it.  

 

“Nothing?” Viktor asks. “Alright--what about the other datacrons, and the terminal where they connect to?”

 

Yuurif frowned sharply. He closed his eyes yet again to focus on his breathing. He couldn’t assume what Viktor knows, Yuuri reminded himself. It might all be a ploy.

 

“Fine, we will speak about the datacrons later. I do wonder how the Order and Republic are going to justify this mess. You were caught grave robbing on Imperial soil, you know. It’s a capital offence in several planets, though regretfully Taris isn’t one of them. I wonder if the treaty won’t break down at this blatant disregard for it.”

 

Yuuri scoffed. “Oh please, the Empire has been violating the treaty since it was made.”

 

“Have we? That’s news to me.”

 

“You must have lived under a rock.”

 

“And you must have lived ignorant of reality, if you honestly think you’re in any position to argue or bargain your way out of this by pointing fingers. Think of the fallout in credibility. The Sith are known to make the best of unfavorable situations. The Jedi are little paragons of stupidity--” Yuuri huffed,”-forgive me, of _righteousness_ . You fought and bled for that treaty in the Sacking, and now you ignore it blatantly. How could _anyone_ trust you.”

 

“You can’t,” Yuuri said, low and dangerous as he could make it, “because I’m not a Jedi, and calling me such will do nothing but show how terrible at interrogations you are.”

 

Viktor was silent for a long moment, and Yuuri leaned back into a meditative pose. Even if it was nothing but a farce, at least Yuuri could look like a proper Jedi, even if he couldn’t act like one.

 

“That’s very interesting,” Viktor finally said. “Did you just defect? Normally I hear more about this, you know. News tends to spread---but you don’t look much like a defector to the Sith.”

 

His reprieve from answering Viktor, who already knew too much yet ( _thank Force_ ) not enough, came in the form of an earthquake.

 

 _Not an earthquake_ , Yuuri realized a second later, trying to reorient himself from the tremors, only to get thrown into a wall in yet another booming explosion, the ship’s emergency lights painting the cell red. _An attack!_

Viktor was also staggering. He spat what Yuuri recognized as a curse in one of the various main Imperial tongues, opening the door to see what happened.

 

The twi’lek who had introduced himself as Chris in his initial interrogation of Yuuri nearly crashed into Viktor as he stepped out. Yuuri leaned into the plasma barrier, close enough that a few of his hairs started sizzling with the burning energy of it, to try and hear what they said.

 

It was for naught. Yuuri managed to lip-read what seemed to be “attack” and “don’t know” on Chris’s lips before the twi’lek catched on, and with an annoyed glance and a twitch of his lekku, Chris turned around so that Yuuri was no longer privy to their conversation.

 

The ship shook again, and this time Viktor went running to face off the intruders. Chris turned once more so he was facing Yuuri. Yuuri met his gaze evenly. Chris’s eyes narrowed, making the markings around his face tense for a brief moment. “Don’t try anything, Katsuki. We’ll shoot to kill if you do.”

 

Yuuri gave a flat and deliberately slow look at his surroundings, raising an eyebrow in return. Chris snorted and turned away, his hand already reaching for his blaster as he went after Viktor.

 

The door slid shut behind him.

 

Yuuri stumbled once more as another tremor (ship fire, Yuuri could now distinguish) rocked the ship. He had a brief moment of stability before the Force screeched at him, and he threw himself under the one bench seat at the end of the cell.

 

The ceiling exploded.

 

A plasma barrier fizzled under the explosion, and dark moonlight and the sounds of fighting filtered in, a light freighter speeding past the hole in a second. Yuuri rolled out and eyed it speculatively--it was too small for him. If only Yuuri had his lightsaber.

 

Yuuri went to the door and concentrated. They lacked anything to restrain a Force user with, other than that terrible plasma barrier. The inner lockings on this door were familiar enough that Yuuri pushed it open easily.

 

Another explosion made him unsteady, and he leaned against the wall as he looked around him. Sharp chrome, similar to that of Imperial Dreadnoughts made up the hull. There weren’t any convenient guides either, just two stairs that went up both sides. Chris and Viktor had gone left, presumably to wherever the exit was. Yuuri hesitated and ran in the other direction. A small corridor later, Yuuri found himself in the main area of the ship. At the center of a circular sofa, hocked to a large holo-table was V1C, a mirriad of cables connecting him to several abandoned computers.

 

Yuuri kneeled before the inactive droid and hesitated before he snapped the cables off. He didn’t know enough to tell if they would damage anything. Then he noticed the glint of a restraining bolt. With a frown, Yuuri yanked it out and threw it behind him, quickly pressing the button to boot up V1C.

 

Yuuri could feel fighting now, the anger-adrenaline-fear that characterized it, along with some familiar presences, but he'd barely focused on them before another explosion rocked the ship and sent him sprawling.

 

V1C finally whirled to life with a slew of angry insults that cut off when it saw Yuuri groaning before it. It beeped angrily, and it took a moment for Yuuri to decipher the rambling binary. Then he turned towards the stairs leading to a darkened room.

 

“You’re sure?” Yuuri asked, already pushing himself up. V1C chirped the affirmative, and began pulling out the cables attached to it. “I’ll leave you to that then.”

 

The cabin at the end of the stairs looked like that of a captain: big bed, tasteful decorations, and beside the bed was some unknown human’s bust (what even), giving it more personality than the rest of the ship had. He felt around with the Force, and took down a painting from the wall.

 

Behind it was a safe. Yuuri pressed his hand to it, but could barely feel the locking mechanism. It was far, far more complicated than the holding cell. Yuuri glared at it, wishing his lightsaber was in hand. Then he could just cut off the plating.

 

He cast around the room, but the Sith who this belonged to (Viktor?) hadn’t left any weapons lying about. He riffled through the drawers, but there were only datapads, flimsies, and what looked to be _paper_. New paper at that. Yuuri hadn’t realized that was still made in the galaxy. [1]

 

An explosion rang out, and Yuuri preemptively threw himself to the ground. It did nothing--the crash came from outside, barely rocking the ship. The attacking freighter must have been shot down. Yuuri’s time was running out.

 

Finally, Yuuri’s eyes fell on the bust. It was unlikely to work, but other than running for the ship to find wherever his saberstaff had been stored, it was his only option. At least he’d bust up something of Viktor’s in the process.

 

He grabbed it, and it took all his Force-enhanced strength to pull it free. Yuuri could vaguely see magnetic clamps where it had been anchored, and he heaved under its weight. It was far heavier than it looked. Far heavier than stone at that. Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if it was weighed down with durasteel, for how cumbersome it was.

 

Yuuri sucked in a breath, staggered to the wall, and slammed the bust into the safe with all his strength. Nothing, though some stone of the bust crumbled and left white imprints on the durasteel plating.

 

He heaved again, stepping back and rushing at it, and placing every ounce of strength he could gather behind the strike.

 

The bust shattered.

 

Yuuri slammed against the wall and fell to his knees, coughing in the dust and stone of the vase. A white cloud of dust hung in the air around him, and Yuuri blinked it out of his vision to focus on the objects in the floor. Because there, lying with the bits of stone and rubble, was a metallic box.

 

It was heavy when Yuuri grabbed it, over half the weight of that sculpture.

 

Yuuri fumbled for the locking mechanism, and found it far simpler, without any of the Force-nulling, spike-crushing, thief-unfriendly safety mechanisms that littered the other safe. Yuuri shot a look at it from where he was. It was still intact. _Unbelievable_.

 

Could it be a decoy, hidden in plain sight? Or was this the decoy, hidden...inside something in plain sight as well.

 

Yuuri squinted back at the safe in his hands. He concentrated, picked at the various locks inside it, and slowly it whirled opened. Yuuri’s heart leap to his throat.

 

The datacron.

 

Yuuri knew now he should have destroyed it when he found it. He cursed at himself for wanting to leave the temple more than he wanted to destroy it. So what if he wanted to throw the datacron into a volcano afterwards? He should have at least tried to break it, make it harder for the mechanisms to work correctly if he was caught. Unfortunately, the emperor built them too well. Yuuri doubted anything short of a lightsaber would do the job.

 

Yuuri flicked his gaze up once more. The (decoy?) safe was dusty, but showed no signs of impact. Yuuri wondered how much it was reinforced. This was a Sith ship, after all.

 

He clenched his hand around the datacron. Yuuri can’t hear any more fighting. Time to find out how strong the safe is--and if not, to rush out in search of his saber before his captors returned.

-

 

Thirteen hits. Thirteen, Force-enhanced hits. The datacron created dangerously in his hands, a few linger sparks frying the gloves on his hands. Fourteen, the cables got exposed. Fifteen- Yuuri raised the broken daatacron behind him, and slammed it back down on the edge of the safe.

 

A crack broke out along one inner edge of the pyramuid. Yuuri gave a triumphant shout, pulling the plating apart.

 

Not as good as a volcano could destroy it, but Yuuri would take what he can get. He doubted Viktor or his ilk could get to the text inside it now, but to make sure Yuuri scratched at the wires and interface ripping them out and crushing them under his boot. He frowned at the datacron. The crack had exposed a glowing area inside that looked as if though space had been folded in on itself continuously. Without the plating Yuuri could feel the echo stronger now. It was oddly like a holocron. Yuuri hadn't known it was possible to combine the two, much less infuse a holocron with enough personality and Force-imprints to make it feel this...alive.

 

Footsteps finally made him look up, his labored breath speeding up as he finally came to his senses.

 

It was Viktor, because the universe hated Yuuri. The Sith Lord took a slow look at his surroundings. There was the exposed safe, the painting covering it having been thrown onto the bed. The bed itself was dusty white from where the outer stone covering of the bust shattered. There was Yuuri, who was probably a dust-covered, sweaty mess, holding the damaged datacron in his hand, the ripped-out wiring littering the bed and floor around him.

 

Yuuri got the feeling that whatever Viktor had expected to find, this wasn’t it. As amusing as the thought was, it didn't stop the bead of sweat from sliding down his forehead.

 

For once, Yuuri would like to face this Sith prepared and (most importantly) _armed_.

 

How was he supposed to get out of here now?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Flimsies. Like paper, but reusable and made of plastic. They dissolve in water. 
> 
> [2] Twi'lek and Chiss are two star wars species. Twi'leks have two 'tentacles' called lekku on their heads, and they have a variety of tattos/markings on them. Chris looks vaguely like this (https://barithorswtor.files.wordpress.com/2016/07/orthenal.png?w=640), except with professional clothing and marks on his face that mimic his eyebrows and beard. Chiss are blue and have red eyes. So think Georgi but with red eyes, blue, and dramatic eye shadow. 
> 
> I'm exited to finally reach this point! The story is starting to get into the plot, and Viktor and Yuuri finally meet! Not the best first impression for either of them. Alas. Some of the other characters also make an appearance! The gang is slowly but surely coming together. 
> 
> So, the safes. In all honesty, it snuck up on me. I figure Viktor's personal safe is for things he's going to be frequently taking out, which is why it's not the prison-worthy behemoth that the ship's safe is. Why is it in a bust? Why is there a bust on the ship? Some questions are left best to the void. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading this! I hope you liked it!
> 
> It's my first Yuri!!! on Ice or SWTOR fic (my first fic in years, actually) so I'm kinda nervous about it. Please let me know if you liked something, or found a Star Wars detail confusing (I try to explain all the worldbuilding but I probably missed something)! If you want to, you can come talk to me on [tumblr](https://captainadwen.tumblr.com) or captainadwen on twitter!


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